


Biological Imperatives

by BigBadLittleRed



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cryptid Dads, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, I renamed Nadia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealousy, M/M, Post Season 1, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: After the loss of Letha and the disappearance of Shelley, Roman and Peter are both what seems to be broken beyond repair. They take comfort in one another's company, and in doing so become even closer as they move forward into the future. They must navigate the tasks of raising a baby, being adults, and possibly even escaping death a few times. Luckily, they have each other, in whatever way that may be.





	1. What Remains

Roman sits in the empty attic with a heavy heart and a tight throat, tears occasionally dripping down onto his cheeks. He had screamed and cried for the last day, since Letha had passed away, and now all he could do was silently weep. Here in this room were millions of memories spread out amongst the years, mostly to do with Shelley, but some with Letha as well. First, he had mourned the disappearance of his sister and now he had to face the death of a girl who had been his partner in crime since birth.

 

It felt like his life was falling to pieces, like nothing would ever be okay ever again. It was just him and his mother and that was a terrifyingly vile thought, he was by himself in a way that he’d never been before. Roman had always been alone, a dead dad and a cold bitch for a mom, with no friends except his cousin and his sister. And now the only things tethering him to happiness were gone.

 

He had objected to the clearing out of Shelley’s room, told Olivia that she’d be home soon and want her things back. But Olivia had already given up hope, far quicker than a normal mother might. She didn’t give a shit about Shelley, nor did she care about Letha. Most days the only person she ever thought about was herself, and herself only.

 

She was a coldhearted witch, and he was her offspring so what did that make him?

 

Roman thinks about Peter, someone who many would call sleazy or dirty, just some gross gypsy. A shitty reputation, and yet somehow, he was perhaps the most brave and well-meaning person Roman had ever met. Peter was good, not in anyone else’s sense, but nonetheless, good. Neither Roman or Peter were truly good, they were riddled with problems and flaws of their own. But Peter radiated light, calm, and on most occasions, happiness.

 

He wished he could say the same about himself.

 

Footsteps come up the stairs, the calculating click of heels that is followed by a shadow appearing in the doorway. He leans back against the wall, peering up at the light spilling into the large space from the windows across the room. Shelley shouldn’t have been kept up here like some secret, like something to be ashamed of. She was precious, good, in every sense of the word, far better than Roman and Peter.

 

“What do you need, darling?” Olivia’s voice echoes into the room from the doorway, he blinks at the new welling of tears in his eyes, lips trembling.

 

“Peter.” It spills from his lips without a single thought, as if Peter was a ship on rocky waters and Roman was steadily drowning.

 

“Fine.” Olivia nods solemnly, obviously not pleased but willing to do anything to soothe her young prince.

 

Roman climbs to his feet, feeling shaky and tired, but filled with vigor to see a familiar face. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, not for them to weep together, maybe to get piss drunk or high. Sure, they’d cry, that was one thing that came to them naturally. They were broken in ways that weren’t the same but similar, souls like cracked porcelain that they were attempting to glue back together with shaking blood-stained hands.

 

He gets downstairs with his mother, watching her grab her purse and keys with apathy. She turns to him and he turns away before she can reach out to touch him, pulling open the front door and stepping out. He’s halfway off the front steps when he spots a pair of scuffed up boots behind a bush, and frowns as he continues forward to peer around the edge of the hedge near his front door.

 

“Peter?” The young man is sitting on the lawn with his back against the hedge and a bottle in a paper bag near his hip. His face is startlingly empty, cheeks rubbed raw and still stained with tears, eyes bloodshot and distant. Most noticeably, was the fact that his hair was trimmed choppily, and there’s a big shaved patch near his left ear on the side of his head.

 

“Oh, lovely.” Olivia sighs at the sight of Peter, rolling her eyes when Roman shoots her a glare. She waves a hand at him and then disappears back inside, leaving them alone.

 

“I was going to leave.” Peter says, eyes flickering from the middle distance and down to his lap. “I was going to leave like we always do, like I’m supposed to do.” His voice is hoarse and quiet, defeated.

 

“You didn’t.” Roman observes, Peter nods slowly. “Why?”

 

“I thought about leaving a note, but I didn’t know what to write.” He’s drunk, slurring his words, still hasn’t met Roman’s eyes. “ _I loved her and I’m pissed, but I have to leave, love Peter_.” He narrates sarcastically.

 

“Come inside.” Roman says, stepping closer and offering a hand to Peter.

 

“My mom left, we got into a fight.” Peter says, ignoring the outstretched palm and sitting up, pushing himself onto his knees and using his hands to leverage his legs off the ground like a toddler might. He doesn’t forget his bottle, which from the smell of Peter, is vodka, and not the good stuff.

 

Roman balances a steadying hand on the small of his back when he’s upright, trying to steer him inside. Peter stares at him now, looking up at him as if he’s torn between crying and getting into a fight with Roman for no reason. Well, for only the reason of letting out the anger, he knows the feeling. He’d let Peter beat him up if he needed to, probably wouldn’t even fight back if he did. He could never hurt Peter, even if he hated him. Well, he might deck him, but he'd probably deck anyone given the right mood.

 

“You’re dangerous.” Peter says quietly, Roman raises his eyebrows, not quite comprehending what he means by that.

 

“So are you.” He offers in return, and Peter’s face contorts into a pained expression, he lets out what sounds like a hysterical laughing sob. “What’d you do to your hair?” He asks, Peter reaches up and touches the shaved patch with a shaking hand.

 

“I’m different, I didn’t want to look the same.” He mutters, and somehow, it makes sense. Roman reaches out and wraps an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders, pulling him over to the door.

 

Olivia is standing at the doorway between the sitting room and the foyer when they step inside. Peter is unsteady on his feet, and Roman is carrying the wrapped bottle of vodka he had snagged from him in the hand that isn’t keeping his friend upright. The woman’s eyes are cold as always, but there’s a bit of disgust sparkling there. She wouldn’t say anything, not right now, she liked to act as if she were civil.

 

“Your house is big as fuck.” Peter says as they stagger their way over to the elevator, Roman nods quietly as they climb on. Peter had seen his house before, so he must really be drunk to have pointed it out. Or maybe he just doesn’t know what else to say, Roman sure as hell doesn’t.

 

Roman takes Peter to his room, setting the vodka on his dresser as Peter sways his way into the middle of the room. Roman sinks down onto the bed, the mattress so pristine that it doesn’t even creak. The sheets are unmade, his mother hadn’t hired any new help since they’d all run away. But he doesn’t mind, just kicks off his shoes and throws himself back onto a pillow.

 

He startles when Peter collapses suddenly, a second away from getting up when he notices that Peter doesn’t look bothered to be laying on the floor. He lays on his side facing Roman’s bed, gaze far away once again as he pillows his head on one arm. He thinks about offering to help Peter up onto the bed, or saying he’s allowed to join him. But he knows that Peter would help himself if he wanted to, and most likely just wanted to wallow in his grief like Roman.

 

“There’s no word to describe it.” Roman says, and Peter’s eyes flicker to look at him, attempting to refocus. “What’s happening, there’s nothing strong enough to describe it.” He turns his eyes to the ceiling.

 

“It’s my fault.” Peter’s words sound extremely stereotypical, but he’s curious as to how Peter might come to that conclusion. “I asked what I had to pay to turn on the wrong moon, and it was my face.” He says quietly, staring at the carpet fibers in a drunken daze. “I got my face back, so what did I pay?” His gaze turns to Roman once more, with startling clarity.

 

“The universe doesn’t have it out for you, Peter.” He mutters bitterly, turning a scowl to the ceiling. “Life just fucking blows.”

 

“Mm.” Peter doesn’t offer any other response.

 

Roman shuts his eyes, not tired but willing himself away from reality in whatever way possible. He can only hear the sound of his own breathing, Peter being too far away to hear. But he knows he’s there, probably half-conscious by now, but still there. He hadn’t left and Roman was glad, he couldn’t stand to lose another person in his life.

 

-

 

Roman wakes up to Peter retching in the bathroom, and somehow the noise is a comfort. He sits up slowly, feeling more tired than when he fell asleep but getting off the bed anyway. He shuffles over to the bathroom door, watching Peter hunch over the toilet bowl that’s probably cleaner than Peter himself is. He looks out of place here, like he doesn’t belong, Roman wants to change that.

 

“I’ll get you some water and aspirin.” He only receives quiet echoing pants in return, and steps around Peter to open up his counter drawer.

 

He grabs the aspirin, putting it on the counter and then turning to leave and find a glass. He pauses when Peter gets to his feet, pouring out two little pills and bringing his palm up to put them in his mouth before leaning over the faucet and turning the water on. It’s not something Roman would ever think to do, but Peter is far from being like Roman, and maybe that’s what he likes about him.

 

“What time is it?” Peter turns, looking a mess with his shitty hair and rumpled clothes. Roman turns his head to peer into his bedroom, looking at the blinking digital clock on his bed.

 

“Just after five.” He says.

 

“In the morning?” Peter asks with a squint of his eyes.

 

“No.” He replies with a soft exhale.

 

“Oh…” He wipes at his eyes, then pushes his hair back.

 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met that has been unimpressed and unafraid of me at the same time.” He says suddenly, the thought occurring to him. Peter lets out a quiet groan, hanging his face in one hand as he shuffles out of the bathroom past Roman.

 

“No heartfelt conversations, I’m hungover.” He grumbles, dropping onto Roman’s bed like it’s his own.

 

“A lot of people either try to talk to me because I’m rich or avoid me because I scare them.” He sits down at the foot of the bed, staring at Peter’s ratty hole-filled socks. He turns his head to seek out Peter’s shoes, finding them scattered apart from one another near the dresser.

 

“I don’t care about money and the only thing scary about you is that your toilet smells like actual daisies.” He replies lazily, not moving from his place.

 

“You’re sure you don’t care about money?” Roman asks, fidgeting with the rumpled sheet near the foot of the bed, partially hanging down onto the carpet.

 

“What the fuck are you on about?” Peter sits up, looking irritated with just a hint of pout.

 

“When I turn eighteen I get everything, the house, the money, the company.” He confesses, the weight of this concept having been weighing heavily on his mind since he first found out.

 

“You, a business man?” Peter snorts, dropping down onto his back. “Now that’s rich.”

 

“I’m going to move out, buy my own place.” He says decidedly, staring down at his hands, which were almost as baby soft as the day he was born. Not a day of work behind them, not like Peter’s.

 

“That’s good.” Peter answers idly.

 

“I can’t do it alone.” He finally says after a moment of quiet, Peter hums under his breath, probably half asleep again. “Peter?” He brings a knee up onto the mattress and crawls up the bed, Peter lets out a barely cognizant mumble. “You’re mine, you know?” The words are barely audible, Roman fearing the reality of it, of the meaning behind it. But the words were no lie, he knew it in his chest, that Peter belonged to him. In that spoiled rich brat sort of way, but also in an otherworldly way as well, something written in the stars or some shit like that.

 

“Mhm, sure.” Peter sighs, Roman smiles softly to himself as the other drifts off.

 

-

 

For the next few weeks, Peter and Roman don’t do too much, their sorrow weighing them in place. Peter tries to leave a few times but Roman always persuades him to stay, offering a guest bed or even his own. They always end up together on Roman’s mattress, never touching but close by one another. At first Roman thinks that Peter’s just trying to soothe Roman, but he realizes after a while that it’s for his own benefit as well.

 

They both have nightmares, and on nights where Roman can’t stay asleep for very long, sometimes he listens to Peter writhe unconsciously. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make much noise at all, but he always wakes up with a sharp inhale. Roman knows the feeling, waking up many a times by the faces of the dead with Peter’s presence as his only comfort.

 

Olivia is slowly growing more and more impatient with Peter’s presence, although he hasn’t done a damn thing to warrant it. He’s quiet and out of the way, not to mention they own a mansion and the only reason Olivia sees him at all is because she can’t stay away from Roman.

 

“Open your mouth.” Peter insists, Roman snorts and does so, the smaller man tossing a piece of candy at his face. It smacks him in the cheek and they both grin ear to ear, finding pleasure in the most stupid thing they could think of was their way of coping as of right now.

 

He had gotten Peter’s hair fixed, because honestly having to look at it every day was an atrocity. He didn’t want Peter to shave it all off, so he managed to convince him to just shave the sides down and keep the top. It was a little long still, hanging limply to the side, enough for Peter to constantly run his hands through it like he had before. He looked handsome, far more so than he had before, less boyish now. He wasn't sure if he liked it more though, because Peter looking like an adult scared him, just like growing up scared him in a way.

 

Peter surprisingly hadn’t left, and Roman thought that maybe he really had changed. He still stood the same, talked the same, smiled the same. But there was a sadness there in his eyes when things were quiet, Roman knew he held a similar sadness. However, there were times when they shook it away, even if for a moment, just to be dumbasses together.

 

“You have shitty aim.” Roman tosses one at Peter, who leans back and adjusts in a quick movement that allows him to catch it.

 

“No, you just suck at catching.” He says, chewing the chocolate with a smirk.

 

“I’m much better at pitching.” Roman says with a sly grin, Peter laughs, and it sounds real and unburdened for once.

 

“Roman, I’d like…” Olivia halts her sentence abruptly at the sight of Peter, leaning against the door frame with a quiet sigh. “I see you’re still here.” She had dropped the niceties on day four, Peter seemed to grow less and less afraid of her with every passing day, Roman thought it was hilarious. He didn’t have the effect that Peter did, he longed to be able to annoy her the way his friend could.

 

“Hi Olivia, you look lovely today.” He says with a grin, Roman snickers and nudges his foot into Peter’s, who winks at him.

 

“Yes, well…” She observes him with distaste, then sighs. “Darling, might I ask when you plan on being alone soon?” She questions.

 

“Peter and I were thinking about getting sewn together at the hip, get that freaky Siamese twin thing going on.” He says jokingly, Peter smirks as he pulls out a handful of candy from the bag between them.

 

“Roman, honestly…” Olivia gives him a glare, Roman rolls his eyes and moves to get up.

 

“You wanna talk, let’s talk then.” He grumbles, looking back at Peter, who shoves more candy into his mouth and waves at him childishly.

 

“Have a nice day, Olivia!” He calls out as they step into the hall, Roman smirks as he turns to his mother.

 

“How long is he going to stay here?” She demands in a hiss, Roman shrugs and leans back against the wall.

 

“Forever if it pisses you off.” He says lazily, the woman lets out a sigh through her nose, obviously angry.

 

“You know how I feel about gypsies.” She tells him quietly with a pointed finger.

 

“It’s Romani actually, or Roma if you’re feeling fancy. Gypsy is a slur.” Roman tells her promptly, not out of courtesy of Peter, but just to get at her even more.

 

“Their existence is a blight in humanity, and I won’t have my son hanging around _filth!_ ” She snaps.

 

“You’re the one who saved his life.” He offers, reaching into his pocket and finding a cigarette there, he digs into his back pocket for his lighter.

 

“I did that for you.” Olivia insists.

 

“Peter’s staying,” He says with finality, and when she opens her mouth to object, he continues. “And if you try to hurt him, I’ll personally see to it that you end up dead in a gutter.” He tells her calmly, she blinks at him, not hurt but annoyed.

 

“You always did have a flair for the dramatics.” She mutters.

 

“Runs in the family, I guess.” Roman lights up his cigarette and takes a puff, watching her storm off. He steps back into the room, where Peter is looking at a nudie magazine he had fished out from under Roman’s bed. 

 

“If you want me to go, I will.” Peter says to him, dropping the magazine on the floor.

 

“If I wanted you gone, you’d be gone.” Roman says with a small shrug, taking another drag of his cigarette.

 

“What about Olivia?” He questions.

 

“You know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” He asks, Peter nods understandingly. “If we’re not careful, she’ll kill us both.” He says honestly.

 

“I know.” Peter replies solemnly, and Roman wonders why it always feels like Peter knows more than Roman does about his own mother.

 

“I’m fucking starved, let’s go get lunch.” He grabs his wallet off the dresser and shoves it into his pants, Peter climbs to his feet.

 

“I should get a job.” He tells Roman thoughtfully.

 

“Why get a job when you could have a sugar daddy like me?” He teases with a smirk, Peter pushes at him with a scoff. They slip out of the room and down the hall, to the stairs, and out the door. Roman likes the feeling of Peter at his side, with him always, and wants to figure out how to keep it that way.


	2. Life Worth Living

Not all days are filled with childish laughter and innocent fun, because the grief still lurks under the surface like the wolf does under Peter’s skin. They get wasted, high, blazed all to hell just to blot out the pain. It doesn’t work, not completely, but it’s the best they’ve got.

 

Roman had never balled with Peter before, but the young man was capable of taking a lot more than Roman originally figured. He could consume a liquor store if he had the money, and snort cocaine until the sun came up. There were times when Peter passed out and Roman was afraid he might overdose, but he hadn’t yet.

 

Peter was already out cold, and it wasn’t even midnight. Today had been a rough one, full of fighting and anger and tears. Roman had popped Peter in the mouth for insulting him, and they’d rolled around in the empty concrete pool in Roman’s house like a couple of grade schoolers. Eventually the anger had given away to silence and sorrow, leaving the two of them roughed up and teary eyed.

  

The taller young man had watched Peter do a long line of coke and down at least four shots of tequila before slumping over onto his side. It had been quiet since then, and Roman kept looking at Peter and wondering if he should wake him up and make him vomit just so he doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning like his uncle had. Instead, he lights a cigarette and wipes at his damp eye, sighing as smoke curls into the air.

 

“Happy birthday, darling.” He looks up to find Olivia standing at the rim of the pool, having lit up a sparkler as if today were something to celebrate. He hadn’t even told Peter, couldn’t bear to stomach the thought of himself aging while Letha stayed seventeen forever.

 

“What do you want?” He asks tiredly, in a haze from the vodka he’d drank not too long ago. He wanted another line of coke, but the stuff was over near Peter and he didn’t want to get up from the pool chair he was lounging in.

 

“I have a surprise for you.” She beckons him with a gesture, he slowly stands up and finds himself heading to the pool ladder. Roman offers a glance to Peter, who lays limply on the concrete ground, and decides that when he comes back he should really try to get some water into him at least.

 

Someone had to take care of the miserable fool, the only one standing between Roman and a life of madness.

 

-

 

“What the fuck is this?” Roman finds himself staring at a black crib, with a black veil hanging down from the chandelier. It looked strange against the pink walls of Shelley’s old attic room, as did the circle of candles surrounding it.

 

“It’s time to come out of your chrysalis, it’s time to discover who you truly are.” It’s ominous, she’s touching his shoulder, and Roman is drunk, sad, and irritated.

 

The sound of an infant’s cry has him hesitating in leaving, but he’s scared to approach as well. Olivia takes him by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. Her gaze is dark, predatory, wicked and cold.

 

“Whose baby is that?” He asks quietly, looking down at her with a frown.

 

“Yours, darling.” She says, and Roman blinks in confusion. “Remember what you did, Roman, remember.” She insists, and there’s a flash of images that immediately begin to assault him.

 

It’s like waking up from a dream, a vivid dream, after seeing himself do awful things. Letha crying, himself bathed in light in the form of wings, himself on top of her. He’d raped her, he’d held her down and raped her. He can see his mom there too vaguely, standing nearby and watching as Letha’s cries are muffled by Roman’s hand.

 

“What did you do to me?” He asks in horror, stepping back out of her reach.

 

“Some women are strong enough to bear our young, your cousin was not one of them.” She says with a small shake of her head, as if mildly disappointed but not too inconvenienced. “But Dr. Pryce found a way to revive the child, and now you shall claim your throne.” She turns and heads over to the crib, Roman finds himself following her in a daze.

 

The baby is so small, red faced and wrinkly, bundled in a bunch of blankets in the middle of the crib. It’s crying, obviously upset, and Roman is terrified simply by the sight of the infant. This was what killed Letha, something that came from him. It was his fault she was dead…

 

“What are you?” Roman asks, unable to look at his mother.

 

“What are we?” Olivia corrects, touching his shoulder again. “We are upir, my prince. And with this child you shall feed and become complete.” She says certainly, Roman steps back from the crib with disgust.

 

“I can’t kill a baby.” He sneers, she gives him a look.

 

“This is who we are, this is what makes us whole.” She urges.

 

“You really are a sick and twisted bitch.” He points a finger at her, turning his head to look back at the door with uncertainty. “Peter wanted that baby, I might not have but Peter wanted to be a dad.” He says shakily, the woman sighs angrily.

 

“That gypsy boy is nothing compared to us, long after he is dead, we will live on.” The words make a chill run down his spine, he glances to the crib and then back to the door.

 

“What do you mean?” He asks weakly.

 

“Upir can live on for hundreds of years, darling. The lifespan of a human, or in this case, a wolf, is nothing to us.” She sticks her nose up, reaching into the crib and pulling out the child.

 

“So what, I’m just some fucking immortal? I have to watch everyone die around me?” He snaps, the woman shakes her head as she approaches.

 

“You’ll have me, of course… And when you have your own children, you’ll have them.” She looks down at the baby, making a face. “Not this one, though, this one is a necessary sacrifice.” She holds out the baby.

 

He steps forward and takes it carefully, cradling it in his arms and watching it snuffle and whimper. He wonders what it’s like to be a dad, not just a father, a dad. Peter would make a good dad, once he got it together, Roman probably wouldn’t. He frowns down at the little creature who barely resembled a baby.

 

“Join me, Roman.” Olivia says quietly, Roman turns on his heel and starts walking. “Roman?” She sounds vaguely panicked.

 

“Fuck you,” He says simply, cradling the baby to his chest as best he can and hurrying down the stairs. He can hear Olivia behind him, protesting and calling to him, he ignores her and heads for the pool room.

 

“Peter!” He calls out, entering the room. He almost drops the baby at the sight of a man standing over Peter, wearing dark clothes with a mask over his face and a syringe in his hand. “Hey!” He snarls, the man takes off for the pool ladder.

 

Roman rounds the pool just as the man reaches the top of the pool ladder, he knocks his boot into the man’s face and sends him flying back down onto the concrete with a thud. He turns and uses one hand to maneuver himself and the baby down into the empty husk of a pool. It’s screaming again, an annoying noise in the echoing room, but all Roman can see is Peter still laid motionless.

 

He sets the baby down and shakes Peter, slapping him in the face a few times and earning no response. He barely raises up when he’s hit in the head with something, staggering forward and almost tripping over Peter in the process. He turns his head and grabs onto the man that had attacked him, throwing him onto the ground and kicking him mercilessly until he stops moving.

 

“Peter, fuck… Peter…” He pleads, turning and dropping back down next to the young man. He lowers his ear to the werewolf’s chest, a sob bubbling from his lips when he can hear no heartbeat. “Peter, you have to wake up… Please, Peter…” He shakes the other, tears blurring his vision.

 

He spots the razor blade sitting next to the coke, and he knows what he has to do. He takes hold of the blade and looks to Peter, who is deathly still and who will probably be cold not long from now. Dead, Peter was dead, and that meant Roman was dead too.

 

He slices into his forearms vertically, digging into veins and arteries as deep as he can go. The pain is immediate, but it’s nothing compared to the loss of Peter. He digs the blade into his other arm, his vision growing dark as he shifts closer to Peter. He lays his head down on Peter’s chest, holding onto him as tight as he can while everything starts to fade out.

 

For the first time in a long time, he prays for an afterlife, just so he can see Peter and Letha again. Roman shuts his eyes, breathing becoming ragged and blood soaking into everything. The infant is wailing, and Roman hopes that it ends up somewhere better than here, and that its life doesn’t come to a bloody end like his own.

 

His consciousness hangs on, even as he loses the strength to move. The sound of footsteps rounding the pool, the baby squalling, and Roman’s labored breaths. At last, he finally lets go, and floats away.

 

-

 

He wakes up in his bed, and for a moment, it was a dream. He expects Peter to be laying at his side, to be snoring or drooling. But the bed is empty, and Roman doesn’t remember how he got here. He sits up, feeling confused and wary as he glances around the room. Nothing seems amiss, he’s in his pajamas and early morning light is attempting to shine through his curtains.

 

Roman’s eyes find his arms, and his stomach clenches at the sight of two long scars lining them. It was real, everything was real, and he failed. The thought of being alive while Peter is dead sends his stomach acid into a frenzy, he gets up feeling nauseous. He glances to the door when footsteps approach, holding his breath as he hopes that it’s not Olivia.

 

Surprisingly, his uncle steps into the room, looking rather sullen and subdued. Roman hasn’t seen much of him since the funeral, but he doesn’t look any better than he had then. Tired, pissed off, maybe even a little sad in the eyes. It was understandable, of course, Roman knew the feeling to an extent.

 

“J.R. knew what your mother was.” He approaches slowly, eyeing Roman like he were a rabid animal. “He tried to warn me.” He explains, shaking his head.

 

“She killed him, didn’t she?” Roman asks, voice hoarse, Norman shrugs.

 

“Probably.” He admits, and Roman gets to his feet, feeling stronger and steadier than before.

 

“She killed Peter.” He mutters, and Norman’s eyebrows raise slightly.

 

“Peter’s fine, Roman.” Then he winces a little and makes a small face. “Well, he’s at the tower, recovering.” He explains, Roman’s eyes widen and he stiffens.

 

“He’s alive?” He asks, hating himself for how hopeful and relieved he sounds.

 

“As much as I hated to do so, I gave him over to Dr. Pryce.” He says, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I figure someone worth my nephew’s life should be worth talking to that little weasel.” He shrugs.

 

“F-Fuck…” Roman runs a hand over his hair, tears filling his eyes as he lets out a quiet laugh.

 

“Have you known what you are for long?” Norman is observing him as if he’s another species entirely, which isn’t quite wrong.

 

“Olivia told me when she showed me the baby,” He shakes his head, wiping a hand over his face. “Is the baby okay?” He asks, Norman nods slowly.

 

“Again, alive. She’s at the tower, I don’t want your mother getting her hands on her.” He mutters, scratching at the hair starting to grow around his usually clean-shaven jaw. “Olivia gave me the baby and Peter in exchange for me keeping out of the way.” He says. 

 

Her. The baby was a girl, just like Letha had originally hypothesized. 

 

 

“I own everything now.” The news doesn’t seem to surprise Norman that much, maybe he knew about the will all along. “If you need help staying safe, I’ve got your back.” He says quietly, Norman reaches out and pulls Roman into a hug.

 

“I know you didn’t get to spend much time with your father, but…” He sighs against Roman’s shoulder. “Sometimes you remind me that you’re not really Olivia’s son as much as you are JR’s.” He mutters.

 

“I want to see Peter.” He says when they let go of one another, and Norman nods his head.

 

“Get dressed, I’ll take you to him.”

 

-

 

When they get to Peter’s room, Roman is relieved to see him looking alive and near healthy. He’s hooked up to an IV, his bed positioned so he can sit up, while looking vaguely bored. He smiles tiredly when he spots Roman, holding up the hand that doesn’t have a tube in it. Roman carefully steps inside, afraid that if he even breathes heavily that this might be an illusion ready to shatter and fall away.

 

“About time you showed up here, you gonna take me home?” He demands, already reaching for his IV.

 

“Not yet, you impatient bastard.” Roman says, holding his hand up to gesture him still. “Olivia’s got it out for you, I want to make sure you’re safe.” He explains, Peter shoots him an irritated look.

 

“I can take care of myself.” He snaps, Roman scoffs and approaches the bed, nodding his head.

 

“Yeah, sure looks like it.” He says sarcastically, Peter reaches out to hit him in the nuts, but Roman steps back before he can. “Have you seen the baby?” He asks, and Peter’s expression softens.

 

“No, can I?” He asks, Roman nods his head and scratches his cheek awkwardly, turning around and heading out to find Pryce.

 

After an annoying conversation with Pryce, who is overly interested in Peter’s biology, he gets ahold of the baby. She’s small and blessedly quieter this time around, and he cradles her to his chest as he makes his way back to Peter’s room.

 

He’s never seen Peter look so awed by something before when he steps into the room with the little bundle. Roman approaches the bed and Peter immediately holds his hands out, eager to have the baby. He wasn’t quite sure how Peter could be so infatuated by a child like this, he never had been himself. But Peter cradles the baby and croons at her softly as he uses his finger to nudge at her tiny little fist. It looks natural, Peter looks more at ease with Roman’s baby than Roman did.

 

“I can’t believe she’s Letha’s.” Peter says quietly, stroking the baby’s barely present hair and leaning over to sniff her head. Roman’s nose crinkles up at the action, but a small smile finds his face regardless.

 

“I have something to tell you.” Roman finally grudgingly admits, and Peter barely glances up at him before returning his eyes to the baby.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Well it’s a lot, and I’m still like trying to figure out what the fuck is going on myself… But…” He sighs, rubbing at one of his scars under his long sleeves.

 

“You’re an upir.” Peter looks up at him, meeting Roman’s shocked eyes. “I know.” He says softly.

 

“Y-You know?” He asks, feeling almost betrayed. “How long?” He demands.

 

“Since I met you, my mom told me not to interfere. I wanted to tell you after I started staying with you, but…” Peter sighs, adjusting the baby in his arms. “I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” He admits.

 

“I’m the father.” Roman blurts, Peter’s face contorts into immediate alarm and confusion. “My-My mom she…” He can feel overwhelmed tears building in his eyes, scrambling to explain. “She did her stupid mind power thing on-on me and made me rape Letha.” He hisses, disgusted with his mother, with himself.

 

“Y-You?” Peter looks down at the baby, seemingly conflicted. “You and Letha…” He sounds heartbroken, lost, distant. There’s a long pause where he stares into nothing, but then he seems to snap out of it, looking vaguely nauseous. He hands the baby back over to Roman, covering his face with his hands. “I feel sick.” He murmurs behind his hands, and Roman nods.

 

“Do you hate me?” Roman asks quietly, because he’s selfish and he can’t help himself. He won’t say it’s okay because it’s not, he won’t say he’ll be fine if Peter hates him because he won’t. But he would understand, he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.

 

“Fuck, Roman, why do you have to be like that?” Peter snaps, Roman shrugs and looks down at the baby. “I’m feeling a lot of shit right now.” He admits, Roman nods his understanding.

 

“I can leave.” He stands up, wanting to hand this baby off to a nurse as fast as possible so he doesn’t have to look at the reminder of the fact that he killed his cousin.

 

“Roman,” He turns around when Peter calls him, just as he reaches the door. “Come back in an hour.” He says tiredly, hands fidgeting with the sterile hospital-like sheets. “I-I don’t… hate you.” He says, Roman nods his head and leaves.


	3. Shitty Dads

Peter is dressed in a pair of scrubs when he returns, with his shoes on and the baby back in his arms. He’s still looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The baby’s eyes are open, and they’re a luminescent unnatural blue. It reminds him of Shelley, and he wonders what Pryce did to bring her back.

 

“She should probably have a name.” He says, Peter looks up at Roman with a small nod.

 

“Come here.” He says, so Roman walks over and sits down on the gurney next to Peter. He looks down at the little pink bundle with unease, Peter snorts. “Babies make you nervous?” He asks, Roman shrugs.

 

“They don’t really like me.” He tells the other, Peter scoffs. “It’s true, Shelley cried whenever I held her when she was a baby.” He insists.

 

“She doesn’t.” He shifts the infant into Roman’s arms, the baby fusses slightly and then lets out a startlingly loud coo that has Roman cringing. “The nurse let me feed her.” He says.

 

“I could probably convince Uncle Norman to let you have her.” He offers.

 

“You don’t want her?” Peter asks, looking almost disappointed?

 

“I’d make a shitty dad.” He says with a self-deprecating smile.

 

“Hey…” Peter touches the back of his neck, like that fateful day in the tower waiting room. “You and me are a package deal, so if I want to be a shitty dad you have to be a shitty dad.” He insists, Roman smirks and lets out a disbelieving huff.

 

“We’d fuck her up.” He says, Peter shakes his head.

 

“Nah,” He reaches out, the infant wraps her hand around Peter’s finger automatically when he presses it against her tiny fist. “She’d be loved.” He says softly.

 

Roman doesn’t reply, simply looks down at the baby with growing wonder. He pictures reading her stories, her walking, the sound of a child calling him some variation of the word ‘daddy’. Then he pictures Peter doing those things, teaching her what little Romanian he knew, telling her stories, taking her to the park. It sounds so strange, but the images feel natural in his head.

 

“Are you gonna stick around?” He asks, and Peter pauses to think about this.

 

“I was gonna stick around for Letha, get married and do the whole picket fence thing.” He confesses, sounding a little hoarse at the mention. “I might leave sometimes, for a week or two, but…” He shakes his head, looking down at the baby and then at Roman. “I can’t abandon you guys.” He mutters.

 

Was he really thinking about this?

 

“We sound fucking gay.” Roman blurts, Peter smirks and chuckles quietly.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t deny it, and neither does Roman.

 

-

 

When he tries to talk to Norman, he’s surprised to get a bit of a talk on mental health. The man is obviously worried after Roman’s stunt, and the way he keeps looking at him is more than uncomfortable. He skirts around the depression and suicide talk, listens to Norman lecture him as politely as he can manage while still trying to express concern.

 

In the end, he agrees quickly to talk to Norman if he’s ever struggling, although he nixes the thought mentally. Roman didn’t discuss his problems, he let them fester with the help of booze and cocaine. Shortly after, he switches the topic to the baby, getting down to the real stuff.

 

“You want her?” Norman looks surprised, if not a little conflicted. “A baby is a big responsibility, Roman.” He says hesitantly.

 

Roman stands before his uncle with the baby in his arms, the infant is eerily silent despite being wide awake. Peter and himself had agreed that they’d let Norman name her if it would earn Roman guardianship. However, it seemed like Peter was banking on a specific Romanian name, Roman wasn’t quite sure why.

 

“I never thought about being a father before,” Roman tells him honestly, keeping a firm hold on his bundle when she squirms a little bit. “But Letha wanted this baby and it would be my honor to raise her for her.” The words bring tears to Norman’s eyes, he blinks a few times as he sighs and glances away.

 

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring her home or not. As much as I loved Letha, I don’t know if I can raise another child so late in the game.” He seems cautious to say such a thing, as if he’s not sure he won’t immediately take it back.

 

“You and Marie could babysit.” He offers immediately, feeling as if he were reeling in his goal slowly but steadily. “Anytime you want, really.” He says with a nod.

 

“Are you sure you can be a single parent? You have your whole life ahead of you.” He looks pale after having said so, as if remembering that his daughter had her entire life ahead of her when it was abruptly yanked out from under her feet without discretion.

 

“Peter wants to help.” The words slip out of his mouth before he can think twice, and Norman blinks at him.

 

“Peter?” He frowns slightly, as if the thought of the Romani boy actually being willing to be a father without a girl attached was almost unfathomable.

 

“He wanted this baby as much as Letha did.” He insists, glancing back down the hall where Peter was probably anxiously pacing in his room. “I know it sounds strange, but we want her.” There’s an edge of desperation in his voice that he hates, but it doesn’t matter, he just wants this baby.

 

“I trust you, Roman… And although I don’t know Peter very well, my daughter loved him, and you trust him, right?” He asks, Roman nods eagerly.

 

“With my life.” He assures.

 

“I’d love to have my grandbaby in my life, but…” His voice cuts off, he shakes his head and wipes at one of his eyes, the both of them shimmering with tears again. “I’ll talk to Marie.” He says, Roman lets out a relieved laugh and settles the baby in one arm before reaching out to hug his uncle.

 

“Thank you.” He says sincerely, Norman wraps an arm over Roman’s shoulders and looks down at the baby.

 

“She’ll need a name, then, won’t she?” He asks, Roman nods his head. “Anything in mind?” He questions with a twitch of his eyebrow.

 

“Peter has something, a Romanian name.” He explains, Norman’s eyebrows raise up slightly. Roman turns on his heel, heading towards Peter’s room and stepping inside.

 

“Well?” Peter asks eagerly as soon as he sees Roman, then stepping back when Norman steps in after him.

 

“What name did you have in mind?” Norman asks as Roman shifts the baby into Peter’s arms to distract him.

 

“Silviana, Ana for short.” He says hesitantly, Norman approaches with care and looks down at the baby, brushing a knuckle over her porcelain cheek.

 

“A beautiful girl deserves a beautiful name.” He nods his head, Peter gives him an unsure quirk of his lips. “I’ll be talking to my wife about this. But I think Ana should stay with Roman, and by extension, you.” He tells Peter with a firm nod.

 

“Thank you so much, sir.” Roman finds the grin on Peter’s face contagious, the both of them smiling like idiots as Roman slides closer to look down at the baby. “Hear that, pretty girl? Your name is Ana.” He says softly to the baby, Roman smirks at the tone of Peter’s voice as he speaks to the infant.

 

“Are you going to stay at your place?” Norman asks warily, Peter and Roman look to the man and then at each other. Peter seems unsure, and Roman pushes his own sense of feeling lost aside and shakes his head.

 

“Peter and the baby are going to stay here tonight, I’m going to get our things and we’ll probably stay in a hotel tomorrow if aunt Marie is okay with this.” He says decidedly, and when the other two men blink at him, he continues. “I’ll get a place, I don’t want her raised there.” He says with distaste.

 

“You could stay with us, if you wanted.” Norman offers, Roman quickly shakes his head.

 

“We’re adults now, I have the money and I’ll take care of it.” He flashes the man a confident smile and Norman relaxes slightly at the sight of it.

 

“Right.” He agrees, then sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’ll talk to Marie, and I’ll call you in the morning.” He tells them with a small nod. “Have a good day, boys.” He turns and heads out of the room, leaving them with the baby.

 

“Why do I have to stay here?” Peter asks, adjusting the baby in his arms.

 

“Because if Olivia gets in here somehow she’s going to make a beeline for this kid and I know it.” He tells Peter with a point of his finger. “They can bring a little crib thing in here and you can keep her safe.”

 

“What are you gonna do?” He demands, looking slightly put out.

 

“I’m gonna get our shit and move it to a hotel.” He hitches his thumb to the door, Peter sighs as the baby starts to fuss, signaling an impending wailing for some reason or another.

 

“Probably needs to be changed.” Peter says as he rocks the baby gently.

 

“Well you do that.” Roman smirks and hurries from the room as Peter flips him the bird.

 

-

 

When Peter reaches the house, his mother’s waiting for him just outside of his room. He passes her by without looking at her and starts to pack up his and Peter’s things. Most of Peter’s clothes had ended up at Roman’s house. He didn’t have much to begin with, so it was easy to get his things together. However, Roman owned a lot of clothes, so he figured it would be best to narrow it down a bit for now.

 

“And what pray tell are you doing?” Olivia questions impatiently.

 

“Moving out, you blind or stupid now?” He snaps in reply, taking two clean blazers down from the closet and throwing them onto the bed.

 

“Roman, be reasonable. I let your little pet live!” She says with a scoff, as if he was overreacting somehow.

 

“You tried to overdose him on purpose!” Roman shoves a bunch of shirts, socks, and underwear into one of his suitcases. He follows it up with some pants that he doesn’t even bother to neatly fold, he’d get them ironed later. “And you tried to get me to kill Letha’s baby.” He adds, seething as he tries to keep himself from going into an angry rant.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t do it, upir come to their full power by taking their own life, I had to get you to do that.” She says with a wave of her hand, Roman zips up one suitcase to try to hide his mild shock. “What am I supposed to do all alone here?” She asks, coming closer to him and touching his arm.

 

“Rot, fester, die maybe.” He says casually, tugging his duffel bag off the bed and slipping the strap over one shoulder as he pulls from her reach.

 

“You’re going to run away with that filth? He’s not only a gypsy mongrel but a dirty mutt as well!” She says with badly concealed anger, Roman smiles and chuckles darkly.

 

“Peter is more my family than you have ever been.” He grabs his other suitcase and heads for the stairs, hurrying down as fast as safely possible.

 

Roman books a nice hotel room with two beds, drops off his and Peter’s things and starts making arrangements. He gets a crib for the room, an infant’s car seat, along with formula and diapers with the help of a store manager. Then he starts making phone calls in search for a place to buy. He hires a realtor first to start gathering options, and then starts looking online on his own.

 

He wants something perfect, not too big but not small either. He wants somewhere close to the woods for Peter, with enough yard area so that Ana can play when she’s older. He wants enough rooms for the three of them, but also Shelley. Just as well he should probably have an office, and maybe another room in case Lynda comes to stay. He was looking somewhere upwards of six rooms in the woods, which might be a lot harder to find than originally planned.

 

By the time he looks up, it’s late and his eyes are burning. He wonders how Peter is getting on with Ana and finds that he misses the young man’s company. Usually at this point they’d be either tossing snacks at each other, high, or high while tossing snacks at each other. He supposes that they really couldn’t do stuff like that anymore, couldn’t have too much fun with a baby around. Then again, they could always hire a nanny if they ever needed time off.

 

Shit, a nanny, she’d need her own room too.

 

He opens up his browser again with a sigh, wiping at strained eyes as he adjusts for the new addition on his list.

 

-

 

Roman gets up early, has two cups of espresso and smokes on the balcony of his hotel room while he talks to his realtor agent on the phone. There isn’t really anything available specifically to his liking, so he’s starting to think on other options. He knows he’s a bit of an impatient person, and he’s very finicky when he wants something. Not having what he wants gets to him, because he wants things to be perfect for everyone.

 

He knows that he could buy a trailer in the middle of nowhere and Peter could be happy, without a doubt. Peter wasn’t about material possessions or money, Roman sometimes envied that, because he was never happy with anything but exactly as he wanted. That didn’t always mean perfect clothes or food or anything like that, it meant whatever he wanted he got. If that was a hot girl, a car, or an eight bedroom house then he wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

 

But this wasn’t about his happiness anymore, it was about Ana and Peter now. That was what made him so very nervous, the thought of having two people’s happiness completely dependent on him. Peter technically didn’t depend on him for that but Roman wanted to take charge of that responsibility on his own.

 

As much as Peter enjoyed simple living, there were some things in life that he deserved to experience. Such as consistent air conditioning, three consistent meals a day, and hot water. There were other things of course, but Roman was only basing this off of conversations they’d had about Peter’s trailer at one time or another. Peter wasn’t one to complain but sometimes he offhandedly mentioned things, an honest man without a care in the world.

 

He had a soft spot for the werewolf, which was extremely obvious to anyone who saw them interact for more than a few minutes. And now they were going to live together and raise a baby together…

 

That sounded really fucking gay, but that was okay. He couldn’t see it turning out any different, because as Peter said, they were a package deal.

 

He picks his phone up again when it rings, finding that it’s Norman.

 

“Hey Uncle Norman.” He greets, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

 

“Hey Roman, your aunt and I had a good long talk yesterday.” He explains immediately, Roman crosses one arm underneath his other one and bites his lip in anticipation. “She was hesitant, but I think it’s just because you’re so young.” He says honestly, Roman nods.

 

“Of course, but so was Letha.” He says as reasoning, Norman sighs.

 

“Yes, that’s what I said.” He mutters, then clears his throat. “Anyways, so I convinced her to let you keep her. She thinks the name is a little strange, but she likes Ana.” He allows, Roman smirks.

 

“That’s great, Peter’s going to be thrilled.” He grins.

 

“It’s strange, I didn’t see Peter as much of a family man before this.” Norman ponders aloud, Roman shrugs.

 

“I guess he’s always wanted to be a father.” He couldn’t relate to the statement, but he hoped that one day in the future that he could say he liked being a dad.

 

“I just figured he was in it for Letha.” The man says honestly, Roman nods his head despite the fact that Norman can’t see him.

 

“Guess it was both.” He murmurs, thinking about how Peter took to touching Letha’s stomach whenever he could. Roman and himself had even gone over a few names back then, he doesn’t remember Silviana being one, but he thinks back then all of Peter’s suggestions were from Letha.

 

“Yeah…” Norman sighs, obviously saddened by the subject. “Well we’ll sign her over to you, but I don’t think Peter can get guardianship very easily until you guys are married.” Roman pauses as his brain starts to process what his uncle has said.

 

“Married?” He echoes, Norman clears his throat again, possibly uncomfortable.

 

“Well, if that’s what you boys are heading towards. I dunno.” He says quickly, Roman stares at the wall in shock, did Norman think Roman and Peter were fucking? “It’d make it easier.” He tells him, and then rapidly follows it with a subject change.

 

After a few minutes, Norman decides to hang up, and Roman still isn’t over what he’s said. Norman thought Roman and Peter were together, but the worst part was, Roman was starting to get a feeling in his chest that was a little pissed that it wasn’t true. However, he quickly shakes this strange thought and the feelings that follow it away.

 

He heads out after his phone call and drives over to the tower. It’s still the morning, but not extremely early, so he’s surprised to find Peter asleep. He’s curled up on the gurney on his side, the baby laying on her back wrapped in Peter’s arm with one of the rails up to keep her from rolling away. Roman feels a strange fondness wash over him at the sight of Peter’s mouth resting against Ana’s head, as if he had fallen asleep trying to soothe her.

 

The infant is blinking sleepily, as if trying to stay awake or just having woken up. When she spots Roman, Ana lets out a soft cooing noise and her chubby little arm waves erratically, smacking Peter in the face in the process.

 

“No-no, it’s sleep time.” Peter mumbles, pulling the baby closer without opening his eyes. Ana squeaks at Roman, giving him another uncoordinated grasping wave.

 

“Peter.” He says, watching one of Peter’s eyes twitch open slightly.

 

“Oh, hey.” He shuts his eyes again, which pulls an amused snort from Roman.

 

“We can go back to the hotel room, I have a crib thing set up between the beds for Ana.” He tells the other, reaching over and lifting the baby up. “Hey, kid.” He greets her, she responds with a strange moan of a noise and smacks at his chest. “Okay.” He nods his head, wondering just exactly how he was supposed to interact with an infant.

 

“You have a car seat?” Peter rubs his eyes, sitting up slowly with a yawn.

 

“Yep, and diapers and formula, the works.” He offers, Peter blinks up at him.

 

“Did you get clothes?” Roman stares at him for a long moment, then sighs. “Roman.” He groans, throwing himself down on the bed.

 

“I’ll get some, don’t worry about it!” Roman says without stress, bouncing the baby and sticking out his tongue, Ana makes a noise akin to a laugh and it startles him a bit. “Hi, I’m your dad.” He greets quietly, because he hadn’t had much time to say it before.

 

“Still weird.” Peter says, sitting up and showing off his messy hair. He attempts to tame it with a ringed hand, but it doesn’t do much.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, feeling exposed at the mention of the strange lineage of the baby.

 

“What are we gonna tell her when she’s older?” Peter asks with a small grimace, Roman looks down at the child with another deeper frown. The question makes him rethink it all, because really, what were they going to say?

 

_Your father was forced to rape your mother by your grandmother, and your parents were cousins._

 

“We don’t have to tell her I’m her dad.” He says softly, glancing over to Peter warily, unsure of if that sounded like a good idea. “We could just say that I took her after Letha died.” He elaborates, Peter stands up and sighs, reaching out and touching the baby’s soft little head before turning away to grab his boots.

 

“We’ll figure it out later.” He says dismissively, and Roman’s not quite settled at the idea but content with it for now. “Let’s go back to the hotel, I’m tired as fuck and this place smells like bleach.” He mutters, wiping his eyes after he gets his boots on and stands upright.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Roman nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Just an FYI, I researched a bunch of names and Silviana sounded so perfect and from what I've read it means 'forest' or 'girl of the forest' I'm just saying.... Hope you enjoyed! )


	4. Disgusting Domesticity

Peter opens the door to the sound of rather familiar yet somehow annoyed knocking. Destiny immediately fixes him with a look as soon as she sees him, then proceeds to storm into the apartment past him. He turns slightly with a delayed gesture, shutting the door behind her.

 

“Please, come in.” He says sarcastically, Destiny turns on her heel and props her hands on her hips.

 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling for weeks!” She snaps, Peter sheepishly smiles at her and rubs the back of his neck.

 

“I dropped my phone into Roman’s toilet a while back, despite it being the cleanest piece of porcelain I’ve ever seen, I wasn’t gonna try to save it.” He snorts, pulling out his newer phone to show it to her.

 

“Lynda has been calling me worried sick, said you two got into a fight and you were drunk and she left because you were an ass.” She says with a voice of her finger at him, he nods his head.

 

“She still mad about that?” He asks, reaching up and scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Give me her number, yours too, I’ve just been busy.” He explains, and as if on cue, Ana lets out a loud cry of attention from the living room.

 

He turns away from his cousin, ignoring her perplexed and still pissed off expression. When he steps into the room, Ana taps her tiny hands on the rim of her play chair, setting off a few little sound effects when she accidently hits the buttons. She smiles at him with two of her brand new top teeth, at almost five months she was an early developer, Peter couldn’t be prouder.

 

“Hey, munchkin.” He lifts her up, the girl cooing and wriggling slightly in excitement.

 

“What is that?” Destiny asks from the doorway, eyes wide and hands up in a defensive gesture.

 

“Silviana, or Ana really.” He says, caressing the girl’s soft head absentmindedly with the pads of his fingers.

 

“What the fuck is going on? Where did you get her?” She demands, storming forward and tilting her head to look into the baby’s eyes.

 

“You know, you’re just like Roman, she’ll be talking soon, and I don’t want her being a tiny sailor from day one.” He grumbles, Destiny reaches up and tugs on a lock of Peter’s hair roughly, he winces with a hiss.

 

“Tell me.” She demands, the baby starts to fuss and Peter hushes her, bouncing her gently.

 

“Tătic is okay, it’s okay.” He presses a kiss to her head, ignoring Destiny’s outrage.

 

“Peter!” Destiny warns, Peter sighs and sets the baby down in her chair again, brushing his finger over her rosy cheek before standing upright.

 

“She’s Letha’s.” He says, crossing his arms.

 

“How did- And you went off and- I-I can’t believe this.” She touches a hand to her forehead in exasperation, Peter scoffs.

 

“She’s Roman’s too, his mother did that upir mind warp shit on him and made him…” He makes an expression to convey what he means, not wanting to say the word in front of his daughter.

 

“How do you know he didn’t do it?” Destiny crosses her arms, mimicking him.

 

“Because Roman doesn’t lie.” He says seriously, Destiny scoffs.

 

“An upir that doesn’t lie, that’s like a dog who doesn’t lick its ass.” She says with a wave of her hand, Peter feels his proverbial hackles rising.

 

To say that his relationship with Roman had strengthened was an understatement. Sure, they still bickered and argued, sometimes Roman pissed him off to such a degree that he wanted to throttle him. But he had never been like this with anyone except maybe Letha, and even that now couldn’t be compared to what he had with Roman. They were raising a baby together, being parents, living together.

 

“No offense, cuz, but I think you should keep your opinions on Roman to yourself.” He says quietly, turning and sinking down onto the couch. “He knows he’s upir, he’s fully fledged now. He’s got it under control.” He tells her, she laughs darkly.

 

“That’s rich, so you just sit here playing house while he goes off and chews on prostitutes and drug addicts, right?” She sneers, Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. “Peter, he’s just using you until he finds something better. Upir are incapable of love, of caring, all they care about it power.” She insists

 

“Roman’s not like that, he doesn’t give a shit about anything but me and Ana!” He says as he springs to his feet, staring her down. “All he does is take care of us, and I won’t let you come into our place and badmouth him. Especially not in front of Ana, our daughter.” He puts emphasis on the last two words, and something seems to connect in Destiny’s brain, and anger gives way to realization, maybe even sadness.

 

“Peter, as much as it may seem, Roman can’t love you…” She murmurs, Peter lets out a disbelieving scoff. “Don’t let yourself go down this road, it will only end in pain.” She pleads with him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

 

“Fuck you,” He shrugs her off, turning away to pick up Ana when she starts to cry, as if sensing his stormy mood. “Get out.” He says without looking back at her, hushing the baby and swaying back and forth to soothe her. He tries to keep himself calm as he listens to Destiny storm out, squeezing his eyes shut as the door slams behind her.

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Peter sighs shakily, rubbing Ana’s back as she starts to quiet. “Papa loves you, I know that much.” He murmurs, kissing her forehead and nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head.

 

-

 

Roman ended up renting an apartment in town a week after looking through house listings, deciding that he’s just going to have a house constructed. Peter isn’t too happy with such an expensive endeavor, but it’s not like they don’t have the money for it. Then again, Peter isn’t happy with a lot of Roman’s spending, simply because Peter doesn’t have the money to pay him back or any of that ridiculous dignity bullshit.

 

Roman just lets Peter change Ana a little more than he does, and it seems to shut him up. He’s the stay at home dad anyway, he does all the hard work while Roman goes to Godfrey Tower and sits in his office and goes over boring charts and attends dull meetings. It’s an interesting domestic life, but not one Roman would trade for anything else.

 

He supervises the planning for the house, and in a few weeks, they would start building. It wouldn’t take long, a couple months, a year at the most. It wasn’t over the top, but Roman was going to pay for state of the art security systems and he was buying out a lot of the forest land behind the area just for Peter.

 

He was still in a bit of a debate with Peter, as he wanted to have it fenced in, but Peter didn’t like the thought. It wasn’t that he was trying to keep Peter in, he was just trying to keep anyone who might hurt Peter out. They hadn’t seen or heard from Chasseur, but it was only a matter of time before some werewolf hunter came sniffing about, and Roman wouldn’t have anyone hurting Peter.

 

Roman spends the day snooping around Godfrey Industries, looking over mysterious funding charts, and sassing Dr. Pryce. It’s a decent day, mostly because afterwards he picks up some muffins and donuts from a bakery, and heads home to Peter and Ana.

 

When he opens the door, he’s greeted with the smell of what he believes to be pizza. They were still getting the hang of cooking like adults, because Peter insisted they don’t have a cook that makes things for them for whatever reasons. Mostly they relied on frozen food, but Peter had a slowly growing talent for following recipes.

 

“I think that’s papa,” He hears from the kitchen, smirking as he sets down his briefcase near the door and drops his keys in the bowl on the table before shrugging out of his jacket.

 

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out jokingly, hanging up his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He picks back up the box of donuts as he goes. When he turns into the kitchen, he’s greeted with a contained mess on the counter consisting of a lot of flour and chopped ingredients, a smiling Peter and a grinning Ana at her high chair.

 

Ana lets out a delighted shriek at the sight of him, clapping together flour covered hands in excitement. She looks downright adorable with the white powder on her cheeks and the bright little smile on her face. He had taken more of a shine to her after a few weeks, he was a little scared he might not like her at all. But he’d take a bullet for Ana now, take a million bullets just so he didn’t have to see her ever hurt.

 

“Hey, pretty girl.” He immediately moves to lift the baby out of her seat, propping her on his hip and pressing a kiss to her head as he sets the box down once more. “You dealing coke now?” He asks to Peter when the man approaches, but the shorter simply pats him on the cheek with a flour covered hand.

 

“Pizza will be ready in about five minutes, I have to wash up, clean her up.” He says before ducking out of the kitchen, Roman nods and turns his head to look at Ana again.

 

“Tătic makes messes and doesn’t clean them up, does he?” He snorts, the baby simply grins up at him and pats his chest, dusting him with more flour. It hadn’t taken him long to get used to referring to Peter using that word, although proper pronunciation had taken a little bit of work. “Thank you, beautiful.” He smiles despite himself, brushing at her slowly darkening hair.

 

He cleans the girl up with a damp rag, giving her a pacifier and settling her back in her high chair once the table on it is clean. He takes the pizza out of the oven when it’s ready, and he has to give Peter props because it smells and looks pretty damn good. While it cools, he finishes cleaning up, and then Peter conveniently returns once he’s finished, looking fresh out of the shower.

 

“Pizza looks great, man.” He says, sitting on the chair next to Ana’s high chair.

 

“I would have cleaned up.” Peter says with a glance around, Roman shrugs his shoulders and turns his eyes back to Ana as Peter cuts up the pizza. “How was work at the mad scientist lab?” He jokes, Roman scoffs a quiet laugh and wiggles his fingers on the high chair table playfully, Ana cooing and grabbing at them.

 

“The usual, shady as fuck.” He mutters.

 

“Dude,” Peter looks back at him, giving him a rather intense sort of expression. “She’s gonna start talking soon, I don’t want her first words to be something like that.” He mutters, pulling a couple of slices of pizza onto two plates and sliding them onto the kitchen counter.

 

“Don’t be such a mom, she’s not even six months old yet.” Roman takes a bite of pizza, relishing in the sweetness of the sauce, the crispiness of the crust, and the melty goodness of the cheese.

 

“She’s smarter than the average baby and we both know it.” Peter says with a point of his finger at Roman, who shrugs. He wasn’t wrong, it seemed like she knew exactly what they were talking about sometimes. She responded to her name, certain words or even phrases, not to mention the fact that she started crying the second one of them started to get irritated with the other (even if they were in another room). They were small feats, but at the same time she seemed to understand a lot more than a normal baby might.

 

Peter turns and fetches a jar of baby food and a spoon, pulling a chair onto the other side of Ana’s seat. He takes a bite of his own pizza and then opens the baby food jar, dipping the rubber encased spoon into the orange mush. Roman reaches around and grabs a nearby bib that was on the counter, handing it to Peter.

 

“All right, kid.” Peter pulls out the spoon with the orange puree on it, Roman grimaces at the sight of it and turns his head to eat his pizza. “That’s good, huh? None of that gross carrot shi- I mean stuff.” He mutters, taking another spoonful as Roman stifles a laugh into his pizza.

 

“Christ.” Roman mutters, shaking his head.

 

“You wanna feed her, then? Lazy ass.” Peter pushes the jar over to him, Ana giggles at his remark, they both look at her with suspicion.

 

“You know, if she wasn’t cute, she’d be really fuck- ugh…” He clears his throat, picking up the jar and stirring the spoon in it. “Really creepy.” He finishes, then holds the spoon up to Ana’s mouth. “Open, princess.” He throws her a friendly smile, she tilts her head and swats a hand out, promptly splashing Roman with the orange squash puree. Some of it gets in his mouth, and although it’s not the worst thing he’s ever tasted, it’s definitely not good.

 

“I told you she’s smart.” Peter says as Roman uses a napkin to wipe at his tongue, shirt, and face. “Papa was mean, he gets to eat the baby food too.” He says to Ana, playfully grabbing at her cheek, she giggles.

 

“Sure, she likes you, you probably brainwash her while I’m not here.” He grumbles, Peter snickers and picks up the jar of baby food.

 

“Definitely, we’re conspiring together for your money.” He says mockingly, Roman can’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the mere idea of it.

 

“You’re lucky I love you, lesser men would be dead.” He says as he finishes cleaning himself off, then realizes what he’s said once he looks up to find Peter frowning down at the jar of baby food. “You on the other hand, Peter, are on thin ice.” He adds on, as if he had been talking to Ana the whole time. Peter smirks at him, shaking his head, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

The rest of dinner is quiet, other than Ana’s mumblings and the occasional quiet comment to the baby from one of her fathers.


	5. True Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Sorry this took so long to upload, I had written it but I needed to write a little more before I felt comfortable continuing. Things have been at a standstill because I'm a depressed bitch and I've been busy on top of that. )

Peter never thought he’d be a dad that pushes a stroller and goes to the park with his daughter at almost nineteen. Sure, he’d always hoped to be a dad, but he figured that the woman he married would watch the kids while he worked. It didn’t mean that Peter expected any woman he married to drop everything, it’s just the way it kind of worked out in his imagination.

 

But here he was, fresh out of high school with a baby girl and the only person at home was his best friend, the billionaire. It was a strange life, but he rather enjoyed raising Ana with Roman. They were both laid back to a certain degree, but not overly so, and Roman usually relented when it came to parenting styles simply because he didn’t know much about being around kids. Peter had been around kids his whole life, travelling from camp to house, surrounded by cousins and distant relatives of young ages.

 

He takes in a cleansing breath, smelling the cool September air. Soon it would be winter, and Ana would celebrate her first Christmas. Everything had been going so well, Peter was ecstatic in knowing that his baby girl was flourishing in her rather odd environment. She had already begun to talk, despite being barely seven months old.

 

“Tuh-ta ta ta….” The girl babbles at him as he lifts her from her stroller, he can’t help but grin at her attempts to talk.

 

She had started out with the whole ‘dada’ thing, which Roman proclaimed was Ana trying to talk to him, but Peter called bullshit. It was just a normal baby babble, she hadn’t heard much of ‘daddy’ at all. However, it hadn’t taken long to pick up ‘tata’ which was most definitely Peter. Roman had been mildly offended and said that the ‘p’ sound would be harder than the ‘t’ sound was anyway.

 

Peter was waiting on the girl to say ‘papa’ though, simply on the premise that Roman deserved to hear it. He was a good dad, and Peter knows for a fact that Ana loves Roman just as much as she loves Peter. Well, maybe she liked Peter a little more, but that was probably just because he was with her so much.

 

“You are so cute,” Peter chuckles as he deposits the baby into a swing seat, crouching down to push her gently. He scrunches up his nose and brushes their faces together when she swings forward, the baby shrieking with laughter when Peter pulls the swing close to play bite at her little hands.

 

“How darling.” Peter startles, staggering upright and turning around to find Olivia standing before him. He feels the swing bump into him from behind but doesn’t dare turn his back on the woman. “I suppose it’s easier to train a pet than a woman.” She says with distaste, then tries to step around Peter.

 

“Get the fuck away from us.” Peter snaps, maneuvering slightly to block her from getting near Ana.

 

“Honestly, I’m not allowed to see my own grandchild?” She asks in disbelief, but the emotion doesn’t look genuine on her face.

 

“I’ve seen how you treat blood.” He mutters with disgust, reaching an arm back to touch Ana when she starts to fuss. It always seemed like she could sense when they were upset, nervous, angry, anything out of the normal happiness was like a trigger to make her cry.

 

“I’d never hurt my son or my granddaughter.” She says, turning up her nose. “A dog on the other hand.” She meets his eyes, his chest seizes up and he finds himself frozen in place. “We all know what happens to rabid animals.” She gets closer, looking him up and down slowly. “They get put down.” The threat is evident in her voice.

 

Ana is starting to cry for real now, he can feel her tiny palm brushing against his back frantically. He wants to run, to snap his teeth in fear, his instincts are telling him this is a predator much stronger than him. He can’t fight her, can’t even move, it’s like she’s taken a hypnotic grasp on him.

 

“Let’s see how obedient you can be.” She says quietly, then nods her head to the metal leg of the swing set. “Go on, do some damage.” He can feel the power of her words wash over her as he stomps over to the bar mechanically.

 

The wolf in his head is panicking, having never lost control like this before. He’s scared, pure primal fear as he rears his head back and slams it into the metal pole as hard as he can. Peter hits the ground, blood gushing from his nose and head throbbing from the impact. Ana screams, starting to hysterically wail as Olivia turns and starts to walk away as if nothing happened.

 

A few bystanders are looking at him, but none dare approach the gypsy. He slowly gets to his feet, wiping at the blood spilling down his face with his sleeve and blinking at the tears of pain in his eyes. His nose is most likely broken, he’s broken it before and knows what it feels like. He lifts Ana out of the swing, grabbing the stroller and setting her down in it to dig for some tissues. He presses some to his nose, crouching in front of the stroller and trying to calm the baby down.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay….” He pushes the stroller back and forth with one hand, trying to get the blood off his face so he doesn’t look like a crime scene. “Let’s go find papa, we’ll go see papa…” He murmurs under his breath, grabbing a baby wipe and trying to get the blood off his hands while balancing some tissues under his nose still. He can feel a serious headache forming, and from his forehead all the way down to the bridge of his nose is throbbing in time with his racing heart.

 

He gets Ana into the car, the baby slowly calming but still whimpering and moaning quietly as he straps her into her car seat with one shaking hand. He practically vaults the stroller into the back of the car, trying to keep his calm. He’s trembling though, checking over his shoulder and feeling like he was laying on the ground with his belly and his neck on display. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and the wolf inside him was seeking out some form of comfort.

 

The only person he can think of is Roman.

 

When he gets into the front seat, he cleans himself off as best he can, blood still dripping from his nose but at a more sluggish pace now. Peter starts up the car, using one hand to steer and the other to keep his nose plugged.

 

“Fucking bitch,” He grumbles nasally, taking off out of the parking lot and heading towards Godfrey Tower.

 

-

 

Roman doesn’t answer his calls, which only serves to tick him off and worry him further. It’s not like Olivia could have done anything to Roman, not in this high security building, but his wolf was pacing in his chest and snapping its jaws. Peter needed to see Roman, he couldn’t calm down until he did.

 

When he walks into the lobby, people lock eyes on him and immediately stare unabashedly. He must look crazy with a bloody shirt, blood stained hands, and a tissue held to his face while the other hand pushes a stroller. Ana had luckily stopped crying, but she didn’t seem totally soothed, still unhappy. Peter was sure that seeing Roman would calm her down, just as it would himself.

 

“Peter Rumancek, I’m here to see Roman Godfrey.” He says firmly to the lady at the front desk, who stammers for a moment.

 

“U-Um, do you have an appointment or a clearance pass?” She asks hesitantly, Peter rolls his eyes and it only serves to make his head hurt worse.

 

“Look, Roman and I live together, this is his daughter. I have to see him right now.” He slams a hand on the counter, the baby starts to cry again, and the woman looks severely stressed. “Look, please, just call up and tell him Peter and Ana are here.” He says, trying to back up and be a little politer before he gets kicked out.

 

“Of course.” She nods curtly and picks up the phone, talking quietly to someone on the other line before humming under her breath and glancing nervously to Peter. “He’s in a meeting.” She says, Peter takes in a deep breath through his mouth, tasting blood and the scent of copper clogging up his nostrils.

 

“Bring me to his office.” He instructs firmly, the woman opens her mouth as if to object, but Peter holds up a hand. “I can promise you that if you don’t let me up right now, you will be fired in the next twenty minutes.” He says, as calm and as quiet as he can.

 

“Okay, uh,” She gestures to a nearby security officer, and Peter is seconds away from launching himself at the woman. “Take this man upstairs to Mr. Godfrey’s office.” She instructs, the man nods and warily glances to Peter.

 

“Thank you,” He says to the woman, who stands up and whispers something to the security officer, no doubt something about not leaving him alone there. But he doesn’t care, he’s going to get to see Roman.

 

They ride up to the top floor, Ana whimpering and kicking her little feet in protest in the quiet. Peter idly pushes the stroller back and forth, hushing her softly until they reach their destination. When they step into the hallway, Peter strolls down the hall with the security officer in tow. He spots who he assumes to be Roman’s assistant, a nervous looking young man who seems rightfully unnerved by the sight of Peter.

 

“Mr. Godfrey isn’t due back for another ten minutes.” He says as he stands up, Peter waves a hand.

 

“We’ll wait in his office.” He mutters, walking past and opening the glass door. He lets the door shut behind him, walking over to the desk and dropping down into a chair.

 

His head hurts, his heart is thumping just a little too fast in his chest, and he’s tired. But he’d reached a semi-safe place in his head, so he lets himself relax just a bit. He wipes off more blood from his nose and stuffs some tissue up each nostril, then lifts Ana up out of her stroller. He cradles the baby between his arm and his side, trying to keep her away from the blood stain on his chest.

 

“Papa will be here soon,” He kisses her head, she grasps at his jacket and coos, still sniffling just a little. He allows his eyes to shut against the light, head still aching from the impact he had taken. He was possibly concussed, but it wasn’t bad if he was.

 

“Peter?” He blinks his eyes open, finding Roman stalking across the room with a look of concern on his face. “What happened? Is she hurt? Are you hurt?” He demands immediately, crouching down in front of them and touching one hand to Ana’s head while his eyes dart between Peter and his daughter.

 

“She’s fine, wants her papa.” He mumbles tiredly, shifting the baby out of her arms and over to Roman, who takes her without protest. He held her with such care and ease nowadays, it was nice to see. “Your mom visited us at the park.” He pulls out the tissue from his nose, wadding it up with another stained tissue before wiping it under his nose.

 

“She hurt you?” Roman’s eyes light up with rage, Peter sighs and rubs at his aching temple.

 

“Said she wanted to see her granddaughter, and when I didn’t…” He touches his sore nose; the pain flares up and he squeezes his eyes shut to fight off tears. “She mind-fucked me and made me slam my face into a metal bar.” He sighs.

 

“I’ll fucking kill her.” He sneers, Peter snorts quietly and presses his thumb and index finger to his eyelids. “I should call Pryce to come look at you.”

 

“Mm? No, no I’m fine.” Peter says quietly, wishing he could be curled up in bed right at the moment. “I should go home, Ana just got spooked.” He tells the other, avoiding any mention of being unnerved by the interaction himself. Peter tips his head up when Roman touches his cheek.

 

“You look like shit, there’s a lot of blood, I’m calling Pryce.” He says firmly, Peter has the urge to roll his eyes but his head hurts too much. He sinks down in the chair he’s seated in and sighs quietly. “Go lay on the couch.” He says, gesturing across the room where a white couch and two chairs are fitted around a glass coffee table.

 

“It was just a nose bleed.” Peter gets up, the movement makes him a little dizzy and he shuts his eyes just so he won’t get sick. He can hear Roman talking on the phone for a quick second, and from his rather impatient tone, Peter knows he’ll get his way.

 

As he always does.

 

“Tata is being a bad patient, isn’t he?” Roman coos to the baby as he returns, Peter flips the bird in his general direction. Roman’s hand presses to his back, ushering him forward over to the couch. He drops down onto the cushions, which weren’t the comfiest, but it felt good to not be standing.

 

“How does Chinese food sound tonight?” Peter asks in a mumble as Roman pushes at his shoulder to get him to actually lay back.

 

“Sounds good,” Roman agrees, sitting down in the chair next to the couch with Ana on his lap. “I’ll call before we leave, and we can pick it up on the way home.” He says, Peter sighs as he shifts over onto his side, cradling his head on his arm.

 

Soon enough, Pryce is stepping into the room and Peter opens aching eyes to watch them discuss quietly. He didn’t really like Pryce, neither of them did, mostly because he was obsessively interested in the way everything worked. This included Peter and Roman’s biology, anatomy, and anything to do with them. To him, they were like test subjects, which was just freaky.

 

However, he keeps himself rather cordial as he checks Peter over, shining an annoying light in his eyes and having him perform a few little tasks to make sure he didn’t have brain damage. He asked a few questions about Peter that didn’t quite make sense but were slightly correlated with the injury, so they let it slide.

 

“I’d like to do an x-ray to make sure the nose isn’t broken, but I’d say it’s a minor concussion.” He says as he pockets his tiny light, Peter sighs and Roman bounces the baby on his hip. “Rather strange that you don’t have a regeneration factor unless you’re shifted.” He says, sitting back.

 

“How do you know about what happens when I shift?” Peter demands quietly, a little miffed.

 

“We should go get those x-rays now, maybe a blood and tissue sample as well?” He says instead of answering, then looks at Roman, noting the irritated look on the young man’s face. “Right, just the scans, then.” He says, standing up.

 

-

 

Roman answers the door when someone knocks, albeit hesitantly, knowing his mother was currently on the prowl had set them on edge. However, he finds it to be a mildly lesser threat, Destiny. He tries not to make a face when he realizes it’s her but knows he can’t manage an actual smile for her either. She never liked Roman all that much, although he never minded her besides that little problem.

 

“Where’s Peter?” She asks without greeting, he steps aside and lets her in, closing the door.

 

“He’s out getting groceries,” He turns and heads into the living room, over to the bar to pour himself a tumbler of whiskey. “Despite the fact that I’ve told him over and over that I’ll have someone else do that.” He mutters, looking down into his glass before taking a sip.

 

“What’s your game?” She asks, crossing her arms and cocking her hip out. Roman stares at her with disinterest, holding his glass in front of him as he leans on the bar.

 

“I used to play basketball, but I really only like getting sweaty in bed.” He says sarcastically with a tilt of his head and a small smirk, Destiny scowls.

 

“If you hurt Peter, upir or not, I will cut off your nuts.” She says with a point of her finger, Roman sets his mostly empty glass on the bar and sighs.

 

“Peter’s my friend, I’d never hurt him.” He tells the young woman honestly, sinking down onto the couch and picking up the remote. “I’ve bought a few acres of land just so he can frolic on the full moon safely, I’m having a house constructed just for us, Ana and Shelley.” He hums as he starts flicking through the TV guide, sighing again much more loudly when Destiny stands in front of him.

 

“Are you fucking him?” She asks quietly, Roman blinks up at her silently.

 

“No.” He finally says, when she doesn’t relent.

 

“I don’t believe you.” She replies immediately, Roman scoffs and wishes he hadn’t left his drink on the bar.

 

“Not my problem, ask Peter if you want. I would never deny fucking of any kind.” He kicks a leg up onto the coffee table around her, which forces her to either stand touching him or move away. She smartly takes a step to the side, and Roman goes back to channel surfing.

 

There’s a following silence that fills the room between them, a charged air of Destiny’s frustration and Roman’s tense unease. He tries to stay quiet, tries to keep his mouth shut, but there’s something in him that wants to please her. He wants to prove he’s just like anyone else, that he’s normal in some way. He wants to please Destiny because she’s one of Peter’s closest relatives, not that he’d ever force Peter to please his own relatives.

 

“I care about him more than anyone else I’ve ever known.” He says quietly, and then Destiny’s eyes are glaring daggers at him. “He probably knows but- uh… I don’t tell him that.” He shrugs, staring at the TV but not quite seeing the screen. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, I don’t want to chase him away. Ana deserves a father like Peter.” He looks to her then.

 

“Peter isn’t-…” She starts, Roman holds up a hand.

 

“I know you don’t like me, that’s fine. But don’t go around fucking this up for Ana.” He shakes his head slowly, lowering his hand onto the arm of the couch. “Ana deserves Peter, just like he deserves a daughter like her. He deserves a fucking happy ending.” He snaps, almost angry at himself for ever having jeopardized that.

 

“So what do you get out of this?” She inquires suspiciously, Roman shrugs.

 

“I get to come home to people that give a shit about me.” He murmurs, feeling more exposed than he probably should be. “I’m not trying to get your sympathy either, so don’t even think about trying to pity me. I could buy a small island of prettier women to do that.” He scowls, Destiny is quiet, Roman is five seconds from asking her to leave when she speaks.

 

“You’re in love with my cousin.” She says in disbelief.

 

“Shut the fuck up, if you say anything like that to him I’ll have you gutted.” He stands up, feeling under scrutiny.

 

The door opens and Peter is stepping inside with Ana in her stroller and a few grocery bags on his arm. Ana herself was holding the bag with the milk in it, the carton sat between her legs. Peter smiles at him as he enters, but his expression falters when he notices Roman’s sour mood.

 

“What’s up?” He asks, Roman jerks a thumb behind him.

 

“Destiny’s here.” He walks up to the stroller and picks up the baby and the milk. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He grumbles, stalking off in a huff.

 

Roman occupies himself in the kitchen with Ana, putting up the milk and pulling himself up on the counter with the baby in his lap. She had been talking a little more lately, although Roman had noticed that she was more of a thoughtful baby than a talkative one. She observed them close, imitated actions more than words, almost like she was dissecting the way the world worked.

 

“Say ‘papa’ for me, Ana.” He bounces one leg, Ana stuffs two of her fingers in her mouth and grins up at him. “Who is Papa, is that me?” He asks playfully, she giggles and pats his arm clumsily.

 

“Da.” She giggles, Roman pulls her to his chest and tickles her, earning a few shrieking laughs.

 

“Papa, say papa!” He urges, she tries to grab at his hands, getting a little spit on him in the process. He doesn’t mind anymore, he had gotten over the grossness of parenthood after a while.

 

“Ba-Pa-Pa!” The girl shrieks in excitement, he lifts her up to kiss her face a few times, Ana sticks her fingers back into her mouth. “Ba-pa!” She drones out the word, then promptly lifts her hand out of her mouth to smear dribble onto his cheek.

 

“Thank you, Silviana.” He sighs, lifting his shoulder and turning his cheek against it to wipe the spit away.

 

“Are we having fun in here?” Peter asks, entering the kitchen with the groceries still on his arms. Destiny trails in behind him, glancing around the room as she hovers in the doorway.

 

“I dunno, are we?” Roman asks Ana, who points to Peter as he sets the bags on the counter.

 

“Tuh-ta!” She flexes her fingers at him, then slaps excitedly at Roman’s chest, bouncing in place.

 

“Hello, draga mea.” He says, the Romanian pet name sounds so strange to Roman and yet natural coming from Peter. Peter wasn’t a Romanian expert, but he did have a tongue for the language. Roman didn’t know Romanian, but he had picked up a few things from simply hanging around Peter. Those words, if Roman recalled correctly, had something to do with ‘my dear’ or something of the like.

 

“Oof.” The noise isn’t a familiar one, but Ana is pointing at Destiny and looking at her in mild confusion. “Bapa ooh!” She leans back into him, obviously a little wary.

 

“That’s Destiny, she’s a witch that eats people.” He says jokingly to the baby, Peter snorts from his place at the open fridge and Destiny rolls her eyes. The baby looks at him as if he might be brain damaged then turns her head to look at Peter.

 

“Tuh-ta!” She sounds mildly distressed now, that vague whine to her speech that signaled a crying fit.

 

“Here, take her.” Roman slips off the counter and hands the baby off to Peter, taking up his place to put away groceries.

 

“What is your problem, little miss?” Peter kisses Ana’s head and walks over to Destiny. “This is auntie Destiny, Tata’s cousin.” He reaches out a hand to take Destiny’s, Ana watches cautiously.

 

“Peter.” Destiny sighs, Peter hushes her and squeezes her hand.

 

“She has to know you’re not a threat.” He insists.

 

“What kind of baby is that paranoid?” She demands in return, Peter shoots her a look.

 

“Our baby, now smile at her and tell her hello.” He says with a forced smile, Destiny sighs and smiles at the baby.

 

“Hi kiddo.” She lets go of Peter’s hand and reaches out gently to touch Ana’s hand, the girl pats her finger and coos.

 

“That’s Destiny, can you say Destiny?” Peter asks, Ana pulls her hand back and tries to look over Peter’s shoulder. She starts to make more distressed noises, incoherent mumblings as tears build into her eyes. “Ah jeez, cranky girl.” He hitches the baby more firmly to his chest, patting her back as she begins to cry.

 

“That went well.” Roman says from his place at the counter, balling up the grocery bags.

 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nap time.” Peter says immediately, bouncing the baby in his arms and twisting back and forth at the waist to soothe her. “It’s okay, Ana-bear, let’s go rock for a bit.” He says, disappearing from the room quickly with the wailing child.

 

“He’s good with her.” Roman says as he pulls a bag of chips out of the cabinet and opens them, taking one and popping it into her mouth.

 

“That’s it, right? You just need someone to raise your kid.” Destiny mutters, Roman snorts and shakes his head, looking down into his chip bag.

 

“I could pay to have someone do that, and Peter is no expert.” He eats another chip, sucking at his teeth to dislodge anything stuck in them. “Neither am I, that’s what being a parent is apparently. Being completely fucking lost.”

 

“You could pay someone to be with you, so why Peter?” She approaches the counter, seeming less angry and more curious now.

 

“Because Peter doesn’t give a shit.” He shrugs, wondering if he strains hard enough if he can hear Peter singing some song in broken Romanian in the baby’s room, or more likely some old song like the weird shit he listens to. “He doesn’t care about money, he’s not scared of me, and he doesn’t take shit from me either.” He smirks.

 

“I don’t get you.” Destiny narrows her eyes as she places her hand on the counter.

 

“Peter does.” He counters, punctuating the words with the crunch of a chip. “As much as anyone can, at least.” He feels rather smug about that, like himself and Peter were part of their own little private world that nobody else could enter.

 

“Right.” She shakes her head, turning to glance at the doorway behind her. “Well I’m splitting, this is far too Addam’s Family for my liking.”

 

“All right, see ya.” He murmurs. She pats the doorframe, then slips away into the hallway, the door shutting quietly behind her.

 


	6. Te Iubesc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Sorry it's been so long, I haven't been working on this but here's a chapter I've had written for a bit. )

Roman wakes up with a start, eyes flying open and body tensing as he pulls in his first conscious breath. The memories of blood on concrete, of Peter’s dead body, Ana’s screams, fresh in his head. He tilts his head and listens for any signs of distress, greeted only with the silence of the apartment. However, despite the lack of ruckus, he’s still on edge, for fear of any reason that might cause it.

 

He gets to his feet, walking quietly over to his bedroom door, which was cracked in case Ana needed him. When he steps out into the hall, the hall lamp is on as usual for either of them that needed to see when going to get Ana. He surpasses it, looking into Ana’s room and spotting her sleeping figure in her crib. Roman watches her for a minute, straining to hear her little breaths. He finds the most comfort in the twitch of her hand, the rise and fall of her chest.

 

Roman continues on to Peter’s room, which is partially cracked like his own was. He pushes it gently, looking inside at the young man who was fast asleep as far as Roman could tell. He slept on his back like a freak, Roman never quite understood that.

 

Peter sprawled out in his own bed, a vast contrast when compared to when he slept with Roman, arms out, one straightened and the other bent up near his head. He’s shirtless, the sheets pulled down slightly to reveal the tattoo on his ribs. He never snored, but his breathing is much more audible than Ana’s. Peter had told Roman once that he snored, and he wondered if the werewolf was just fucking with him or not.

 

Before he knows it, he’s standing next to the bed, staring down at his friend’s sleeping form. He’s been feeding more regularly now, Pryce having introduced him to some weird pinkish red gelatinous substance that he could drink without consequences. And yet, looking at Peter, he ponders what his blood tastes like. Blood tasted similar, sometimes it tasted richer and iron-laden, but other than that there wasn’t much difference. He wonders what werewolf blood tastes like, if it’s any different. This was less of a craving and more curiosity though.

 

“Holy shit.” Peter startles, squinting tired eyes at him as he sits up on his elbows. Roman straightens out, having bent over slightly in his distracted train of thought. “Wha- Roman?” He grumbles, wiping at his eye and looking to the clock on his bed.

 

“Sorry.” He murmurs, Peter sits further up.

 

“What’s wrong? The baby okay?” He asks, concerned.

 

“Nothing.” He says, all too quickly, stepping back and crossing his arms.

 

“So what, you were just staring at me while I slept?” Peter reaches over and turns on his lamp, dim light flooding the room. “What the fuck, Roman?” He grumbles with one eye squinted.

 

“I was just making sure you were still here.” He snaps, glaring down at the carpet and turning on his heel to walk out. “Whatever.”

 

“Get the fuck back here, dumbass.” Peter hisses, Roman pauses at the door, his palm pressed to the frame.

 

“What?” He turns his head to look back at Peter, who sits with the sheets rumpled in his lap and his hair a wavy mess. It had grown out more, and Roman sort of missed the shaved look, but at the same time he liked the unkempt look Peter somehow pulled off.

 

“I don’t want you staring at me at night and waking my ass up.” He scoots over to the other side of the mattress, adjusting the sheets. “If you’re going to be a freak, then at least stay here so I can be aware that you’re near me.”

 

Roman stares at him, unsure, because for some reason this felt different. They had shared a bed when they were grieving, when they needed one another just for reassurance they weren’t alone anymore. Peter didn’t need him anymore, and although Roman needed him, he wasn’t sure he wanted Peter to know that. It gave him too much power over Roman, the ability to break him right in his palm.

 

“Don’t piss me off even more, man.” Peter insists grumpily, dropping down on his pillow. “Get in the bed and shut off the lamp before I castrate you.” He threatens, although it’s an empty threat, as always.

 

Roman steps over to the bed, pulling a knee up on the mattress and climbing on. He sticks his legs under the sheets, then leans back on one elbow to turn off the lamp. The room is immediately filled with darkness once more, and Roman lays all the way back. He stays deathly still, just as he had the first night Peter and he had slept together.

 

“Hey, Roman?” Peter turns over to face him, Roman makes a quiet noise in reply, not daring to look away from the ceiling. “I-I’m not sure what the fuck we’re doing here, but…” He sighs, Roman’s heart starts to race when he spots Peter’s hand moving.

 

Peter’s hand slips into his own, not lacing their fingers together like a couple of girls or anything like that. He just pushes his fingers into Roman’s palm and squeezes his hand gently. It feels intimate regardless, in the dead of night, tucked into bed together holding hands. Roman’s fingers twitch in reply, scared to do anything else but brush his thumb over the skin of Peter’s hand ever so briefly.

 

“But what?” Roman murmurs.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me leaving.” He says, slightly louder than Roman would prefer. “If I was leaving, trust me, I’d be taking the both of you with me.” He snorts quietly, Roman finds himself smirking as he finally turns his head to look at Peter’s dark silhouette.

 

“Think I could hack it, travelling like you?” He asks, Peter moves his hand out of Roman’s to squeeze his forearm with a chuckle.

 

“You might last a couple of weeks.” He allows, Roman nods his head. “But you’re not fit for the road, not long term.” He explains.

 

“Won’t you miss it?” He hesitantly questions, fearful of the answer.

 

“I mean, just because I’m with you and Ana doesn’t mean I can’t travel, right?” The words make Roman feel nervous, he blinks into the dark, confused. “On occasion, I might leave town to meet up with family or go to a funeral, you don’t miss a funeral in our family.” He tells Roman easily.

 

“But you’ll come back.” Roman says, and Peter is quiet. “Right?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll come back. And I’ll make you a deal, I’ll always have my phone on me just in case.” He pats Roman’s arm, then moves it under his own pillow. “You can call and rant about Pryce’s cryptic bullshit or tell me how Ana’s doing.” He sounds tired, like he’s seconds from drifting off.

 

“I can do that.” He says, because even though the thought of Peter taking off makes him uneasy, he needs to show trust.

 

“It’ll work out, you’ll see.” Peter mumbles under his breath.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Although he has the urge to be selfish, to look Peter in the eye and instruct him to never leave again, he knows how that would end. Peter’s like a stray dog, although he’d never verbalize that around him, a skittish wild animal. You strap a leash to it, it gnaws through the leather and never comes near you again. You let it walk beside you, run into the woods whenever it pleases, it will always come back for more of what you can give it.

 

Perhaps one day, Peter would let his guard down enough to get fully attached. One day, the wolf might come inside and let him shut the door behind it. It might stay at his side, not show any wariness at all. He’d wait for that day patiently, eagerly, and until then he’d just have to stand at the edge of the forest with a bowl of water and a slab of meat.

 

God, if Peter knew he thought like this, he’d be gone for sure.

 

“Peter?” He calls out softly, earning a tired noise as the young man shifts his head on his pillow. “Goodnight.” He whispers.

 

“Mhm, yeah.” He turns over onto his back, pulling in a deep breath and exhaling softly.

 

-

 

“You can’t bring her out here next month.” Peter says disapprovingly as he strips down to his underwear, Roman watching him quietly.

 

He glances down at the girl in his arms, dozing easily in her father’s embrace with a thumb in her mouth. Roman hadn’t believed in angels before, but he figures if they did exist, they would look like Ana did. His little angel, that’s what he’d taken to calling her nowadays.

 

“She’s fine,” He adjusts the baby slowly, making sure the blanket is tucked firmly around her. She was in her pajamas and a coat, along with a hat, the fall air was much too cold for a girl her age.

 

Roman returns his eyes to Peter, who is pushing his hair back out of his face, eyes distant as he does so. The shifts have been different since the night Christina died, and although neither of them had mentioned it, he knew the both of them realized it.

 

It doesn’t take nearly as long as it did before, and it almost seems like a relief to Peter. He’s still in pain, but it’s almost like he’s addicted to the feeling of it. Roman adjusts Ana when she stirs at the sound of bones crunching, hushing her softly and rocking her for a moment. He looks up and Peter’s eyes are gold, not having fallen out at all, something unnervingly new as well. It was as if the wolf inside him was starting to combine with Peter himself, changing on the bad moon had done something unnatural.

 

Many would say that Peter himself was unnatural, but Roman had never seen anything more amazing than his shift in the earlier days. Now, it seemed almost tainted, still beautiful, but slightly off. He watches with the same enamored feeling in his chest as Peter shakes away his human flesh. When the wolf is standing before him, sleek black fur and yellow eyes, he smiles gently.

 

“Hey, Peter.” He tilts his head slightly, blinking in surprise when the wolf steps forward instead of away.

 

Roman can’t help but be slightly unnerved as Peter approaches, not because he’s afraid, but because he’s worried about Ana. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Peter, the wolf had never hurt him, but there was still a gut instinct to protect Ana in him somewhere. The wolf chuffs, leaning out to nose at Roman’s pants leg gently, sniffing him.

 

“Hope I don’t smell too tasty.” He jokes quietly, startling when the wolf rears back and sits back on his hind legs. Like a begging dog almost, except it looks like Peter is trying to look at the baby. “You wanna see her?” He murmurs, hesitant. The wolf drops down onto his belly and rests his head on his paws, as if trying to appear submissive.

 

Roman crouches down carefully, Ana held tight to his chest, his heart thumping just a little too fast. The wolf crawls forward through the leaves, nosing at the blanket and sneezing quietly with a shake of his head. Roman smirks, Peter continues to sniff at the blanket, then raises his head to rest his chin on the baby’s chest. Roman watches as his tilts his head to the side, wet nose brushing Ana’s chin. The baby mumbles in her sleep, moving her legs in her bundle.

 

“Don’t wake her.” Roman warns, Peter looks at him and woofs quietly, a noise Roman has never heard before. It sounds disapproving, maybe scorn, before he gets to his feet and turns away. “Call me in the morning, man.” He calls out quietly, Peter trots off into the woods.

 

That night, Ana sleeps in the crook of Roman’s arm while he stares up at the ceiling until he can doze off. When he wakes up in the morning, it’s to the phone in his other hand ringing. He knows who it is before he answers it, smiling tiredly as he listens to Peter grumble and shiver against the morning cold as he puts his clothes on. He always dipped in a nearby pond before he came back, to get all the blood off, which was a terrible idea in the fall.

 

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He says, then gathers a half-awake Ana to head back to the trailer to get Peter.

 

When they pull up to the trailer, Peter comes up the steps slowly. When he climbs in, Roman reaches back and grabs the blanket he brought. He hands it to Peter, who cozies himself underneath it before looking back at Ana. He stares at her, as if waiting for something to be wrong, but the girl yawns and smiles at him.

 

“Good morning, flutur **a** ș.” He greets, the baby coos at him in response, making a few choice babbling noises and tucking her face against the blanket wrapped around her in her car seat.

 

“What’s that one mean?” He doesn’t think he’s heard it before, Peter sighs and adjusts the air vents where the heat is blasting from.

 

“Butterfly, I think. Nicolae used to say it to Lynda.” He says with a shiver, Roman hums under his breath. “The pond is cold as balls.” He kicks his shoes off and pulls his feet up onto the seat to hide them under his blanket.

 

“Did I mention I’m having a shower built into the backyard of the house?” He asks, Peter turns his head to look at him.

 

“No shit?” He asks, grimacing slightly and looking at the baby, who seems to be already almost asleep again.

 

“Yeah, and I’ll have a container for your clothes and some towels.” He says, startling slightly when Peter touches his shoulder.

 

“You’re a godsend, Roman.” He tells him with a smirk, Roman snorts.

 

Peter is asleep as soon as they start driving, curled up in his blanket and breathing deeply. Roman finds himself smiling despite how tired he is, realizing how happy he felt so often these days.

 

When they get home, Peter is still fast asleep, but Ana is starting to wake up. He brings her inside, putting her in her rocker and returning to get his friend. He gets Peter to bed, the young man stumbling on half-awake feet all the way there. Once he’s tucked away in his bed, Roman heads out in the living room to keep Ana company.

 

Once Peter woke up, they’d have breakfast, something greasy and delicious. Until then, he could sleep, and Roman would wait, like he always did.

 

-

 

A few days after the house is finished and Roman has made sure the base furniture is placed, he decides to take Ana and Peter to see it. He feels accomplished, because they finished it all before Ana’s first birthday. Sure, the house isn’t technically finished, they still need to paint things and he wants Peter to have a choice in that. But the foundation to their future is down, and Roman hasn’t quit smiling since he got the news.

 

“You’re really starting to scare me, you know that?” Peter says from the passenger seat when Roman laughs quietly to himself, not for the first time. He has a blindfold on, because he’s a dirty cheater and Roman doesn’t want him peeking.

 

“It’s not technically finished, because you know, I know you like houses being home and all that.” He explains as they pull up to the house. He grabs the remote he was given after the security system was installed, and after a click of a button, the gates open so he can drive onto the driveway.

 

“What does that even mean?” Peter asks, Roman shakes his head and gets out of the car, walking around to fetch Peter.

 

“It means you like weird decorations and you have certain beliefs and all that shit.” He says, helping the other out of the car and opening the back door. “No peeking, Peter, I mean it!” He insists.

 

“All right, Christ.” He grumbles, leaning against the door.

 

Roman pulls out Ana, who had been occupying herself with a stuffed Mickey Mouse. The thing unnerved him a little, a lot of toys did honestly, but whatever made his baby girl happy he would put up with. She clutches the doll to her chest as she’s lifted, eyes scanning her new surroundings in mild wonder. Ana hadn’t really been anywhere besides the store, the park, and the apartment since she’d come home with them.

 

“Let’s show Tătic, angel.” He reaches out and takes Peter’s hand, smirking as he shuts the doors and leads Peter around the car and in front of the house.

 

“You’re so dramatic sometimes.” Peter says with a shake of his head, stepping cautiously with one hand clasped in Roman’s and the other held out warily.

 

“Okay,” He turns Peter to face the house, adjusting Ana on his hip and brushing a finger across her cheek, the girl grinning at him. “Take off the blindfold.” He allows, pulling in a deep breath.

 

-

 

Peter has been nervous about Roman constructing some house in the middle of nowhere for a while now. He was expecting something out of Olivia Godfrey’s wet dreams, the big mansion, the gardens, possibly even a fucking fountain with a statue. The thought of having to live in some pretentious house made him nervous, because honestly that’s not who Peter is. He lives simply, in a way that Roman would never quite understand.

 

But the second he opens his eyes, he’s almost relieved at the sight of the house. Sure, it’s pretty big, but not as huge as it could be. It’s not flashy, the outside walls are mostly beige, the roof and window frames having a bit of a burgundy tint. The walkway is cobblestone, like an attempt to make something rich and new look old-fashioned.

 

He turns his head and finds that indeed, they do have a fence as promised, but it’s not huge or overwhelming. There’s a gate, but there’s no big security guard booth, just tall black metal spikes that work their way around the edges of a nicely trimmed green yard. The trees meet three out of four sides of the yard, and Peter feels almost at home because of it.

 

“I had them do something Romanian inspired, because even though you’ve never been to Romania I thought maybe you might like something…” He waves his hand vaguely, probably unsure of what exactly he was trying to accomplish. “I don’t fucking know.” He shakes his head.

 

Peter stares up at the house again, at the big archway windows, the front porch, the single tower near the left side of the house. He’s not really sure what a Romanian house is supposed to look like, he’s half-blooded and technically not even considered Roma by many others’ standards. But the fact that Roman was trying to please him, his heritage, it was touching.

 

“You hate it.” Roman is standing stiffly, looking straight-faced as Ana chews on the ear of her toy.

 

“No, I’m just…” He takes in a deep breath and sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just expected some monstrosity of modern architecture and dark colors.” He smirks, Roman looks almost hopeful as he steps closer.

 

“So you…?” He hitches Ana up higher on his hip, eyes never leaving Peter’s.

 

“I think it’s as close to something perfect for both to us we could ever get.” He says with a small smirk, Roman grins at the reply, obviously pleased.

 

“Don’t speak so soon, you haven’t even seen the inside.” He says, gesturing Peter forward towards the house. “What do you think, angel?” He asks the baby as they walk up onto the porch.

 

“Yeh.” The girl smiles around the ear of her toy, Roman laughs.

 

“Yeah? You like it?” He asks, the girl giggles and Peter grins as he reaches the front door, which has a burgundy color to it and a golden painted knocker on the front. He doesn’t miss the keypad attached to the doorknob with a small red light on it.

 

“Paranoid much?” He questions, watching Roman type in the code. Then, once it beeps, the light turns green and there’s a click.

 

“I’d rather be paranoid than careless.” He says in return, completely serious.

 

Roman puts a key into the deadbolt above it, turning it and unlocking it the rest of the way. Peter rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything as Roman pushes the door open. When he steps in, he’s met with more surprise, although not too much. The walls are bare, a white base color, and besides a large couch, the living room is empty.

 

“I wanted you to help me decide how to paint it.” Roman tells him when Peter gives him a look of confusion. “And we can go furniture shopping, although I’m sure that’ll be hell.” He mutters, leaning against the banister, which is a very dark wood.

 

“Carpet.” Peter says after he ventures into the living room, Roman shifts Ana into his other arm, frowning at him.

 

“What?” He asks.

 

“We’ll need kind of dark carpet, stains less.” He says, turning in a circle and looking up, finding there to be a walkway above the living room that leads around the perimeter.

 

“Yeah, of course.” Roman allows easily, Peter turns to him with a small smile.

 

“You’re so…” He takes in a deep breath, glancing up at the ceiling with a quiet smirk. “Te iubesc, idiot.”

 

“What’s that mean?” He asks with a small frown, Peter snorts.

 

“It means thank you.” He lies, right through his teeth.

 

“Oh.” Roman shakes his head with a small smile. “You’re fucking weird, man.” He mutters.

 

“Language,” Peter reminds him, stepping forward to take Ana from his arms as Roman rolls his eyes. “Show us around, huh?” He urges, Roman nods his head and turns on his heel, stalking off in one direction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( It means 'I love you', by the way. )


	7. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Roman struggle to settle into their new lives, and navigate an increasingly confusing relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( This chapter contains some aspects of what a lot of people (including me) would consider a toxic relationship. Physical abuse ahead, along with some mild self-harm, just a fair warning. )

The house, while large and more than enough room for Peter to know what to do with, isn’t bad. It’s a lot smaller than the Godfrey estate, so he feels as if Roman had compromised just a bit for him. Or perhaps Roman was simpler than his mother in this aspect, as he was in many aspects. He wasn’t fond of manners or public image, he made ugly faces just for the hell of it, and he’d much rather eat a burger from the diner on Gregory Street than have some fancy meal.

 

Peter thinks that’s why they get along so well, because while they were from different worlds, they were just a couple of guys. He wasn’t a decorator, and neither was Roman, but they talked about colors of the walls and furniture. They didn’t know any specifics, but they would figure it out. No fancy words passed their lips, the most elegant thing Roman mentioned was a painting he’d seen online by some up and coming artist.

 

“I didn’t know you liked art.” Peter says, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he surveys what is to be Roman’s room.

 

This room was the only one furnished and painted anything other than white, a gray color with dark red curtains, it looked like a vampire’s lair. Then again, Roman’s species was probably the reason for vampire lore in the first place, so maybe it was fitting. There was a bed, two tables on either side, and two sleek black lamps with checkerboard lampshades sitting atop them. In Peter’s opinion, it looked a little tacky, which was a bit funny.

 

“Not the old shit, some of the modern stuff.” He explains, pulling back one of the curtains further to look out at the backyard. “Looks metal.” He murmurs.

 

“Nothing too scary, Ana shouldn’t be afraid to step into her papa’s room, or the house for that matter.” He says, Roman nods his head in agreement. The aforementioned girl was napping in her crib, the only thing in her room other than some curtains and a toy box that Roman had seen and thought was so very perfect for her apparently.

 

“You’re not gonna leave, right?” Roman asks suddenly, still staring out the window. “I know you said you wouldn’t… But…” He shakes his head, sighing in frustration. “I won’t be able to come home to this house with you having disappeared on us.”

 

“What the fuck, Roman?” Peter says, a little agitated as he props his hands on his hips. “You don’t trust me?” He snaps, Roman turns to him with a glare, hands balling up as if he were prepping for a fight.

 

“All I know is that Ana is going to be fucked up if you leave her. I lost my dad when I was young, he left me with that bitch!” He hisses, his eyebrows twitching as he focuses on a place on the carpet in front of Peter’s feet. “And if you leave her with me, she’ll end up…” He shakes his head.

 

“Roman,” Peter shakes his head, wiping a hand over his face. “You can’t compare yourself to her.” He says quietly, watching Roman’s clenched fists shove into his pockets tensely, shoulders raised slightly.

 

“Whatever, forget it.” He grunts, trying to move past Peter.

 

“No, you started this and you’re going to finish it.” Peter yanks him back to face him, Roman tries to push at him and he grabs onto the taller man’s blazer just to keep him in place. “Listen to me!” He snaps angrily, Roman’s jaw shifts as he clenches his teeth.

 

“What?” He demands gruffly.

 

“If it was just you and Ana, she’d be loved, end of story.” When Roman opens his mouth to say something, Peter pushes on. “You’re fucked up, and I get that, I’m fucked up too.” He says, Roman smiles wryly and gives a dry chuckle.

 

“Making me feel a whole lot better.” He grumbles.

 

“It doesn’t matter, because you wouldn’t be like Olivia. You’d drop dead before you treated Ana like Olivia treated you.” He pokes a long nail into Roman’s chest, staring up into his eyes. “You’re a good dad, Roman. You love her, and not that fake love possessive bullshit. You were scared to keep her because you didn’t want to fuck her up, a bad father doesn’t think about shit like that.”

 

“What would you know about a good dad? You didn’t have one.” Roman says, it’s an attempt to piss him off, and Peter knows it. Roman loved to get under people’s skin, the second they got too close, he wanted to stab them in the gut, pull out the barbs just to get them to step back. Peter had been hurt too many times, heard so many insults, he was immune to petty comments like this.

 

“Yeah, but I have a good mom. I know when a parent loves their kid, I know.” He insists, Roman glowers at Peter’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving, because I care as much as you do about that kid.” He points towards the door behind Roman, who turns his head slightly.

 

“Even if I piss you off?” He asks quietly, Peter snorts.

 

“Especially when you piss me off.” He smooths out Roman’s blazer with gentle hands. “I already know you’re an ass, you can’t scare me off.” He smirks, Roman hums and looks down at their shoes.

 

“I love you.” Roman says in a breath, Peter blinks at him, eyes widening slightly. “I mean, you know, not…” He shakes his head, looking almost pained. “You’re my best friend.” He says quietly, ducking his head in embarrassment.

 

“Right.” Peter nods his head, staring at Roman’s shirt collar thoughtfully.

 

Love, it was a strange word, and it meant a lot of things. And although Peter had heard it quite a few times, from his mother mostly, it didn’t lessen the impact of it coming from Roman. Roman, who could barely show affection aside from bumping shoulders and sharing cigarettes. And yet, it seemed that with Peter, he couldn’t help but throw it all out in front of him. Maybe he was desperate to keep Peter around, or maybe he was trying to change and be more open.

 

“Weird?” Roman asks, Peter shakes his head.

 

“You’re a dumbass.” He reaches out and pulls Roman forward by the arm, wrapping his own around the taller man’s waist and squeezing him tightly. It takes him a moment to return the hug, but he lets out a quiet noise that sounds like a huff of relief and amusement before settling his arms over Peter’s shoulders.

 

“Yeah…” He agrees, Peter can smell his cologne, feel the way Roman’s cheek brushes his ear. “Wanna… Uh… See the backyard?” He asks as they pull back, Peter nods his head.

 

“Yeah, sure, man.” He gestures a hand, and Roman starts heading out.

 

-

 

The house fills quickly, although neither of them express much need for material objects, they agree that they need some essentials. Each room is furnished to an extent, Roman decorates Shelley’s room and Peter decorates the guest room that will double as a room for Lynda or Destiny as well as his own. Both rooms have similar colors, although Peter’s seems to hold a bit more of a yellow accent rather than the guest room which has an orange undertone.

 

They put together Ana’s room together, and although Roman vouches for lots of pink, Peter points out that Ana’s not even one and they shouldn’t assign her a favorite color just yet. They have a lot of fun with the room after that, painting it a light purple color and spending the day splashing a bunch of yellow and green splotches along the walls. It looks strange, but Roman thinks it’s cool and Peter says it looks happy, whatever that means. They put up fabric posters of that stupid mouse cartoon and the bunny and deer from Bambi that Peter likes so much, and call it fit for a princess.

 

In reality, it probably looks kind of crazy, but Ana can ask for a redecoration when she’s old enough to understand décor. The furniture other than that, is simple dark wood, something expensive that Peter is hesitant about. Roman thinks that his little girl deserves the best, and he can pay for that so why not?

 

Roman had gone through a lot of trouble to keep Ana’s room safe, there’s even a keycode doorknob on her door. Peter says it’s a fire hazard but Roman assures that the door probably won’t be closed unless an intruder breaks in. Peter thinks that’s a stupid concept, but Roman doesn’t really give a shit to be honest. He also had the construction crew make the walls of Ana’s bedroom as sound proof as possible and had the windows made of bulletproof glass, but he doesn’t tell Peter about that.

 

During the move in, Peter and Roman start to fight about money again. When the paint has finished drying and most of the furniture has been moved in, Peter tells him he treats money like it’s nothing. Roman’s defenses go up immediately, as they often do, except this time they’ve been drinking. They’re drunk, yelling; Ana is asleep upstairs but neither of them cares about anything other than getting in one another’s face and spitting insults.

 

“I’m sorry I’m not some rich prick who’s had a silver spoon in his mouth his whole life!” Peter waves his hands, and Roman clenches his fists.

 

“I’m sorry I’m not some poor gypsy piece of shit who grew up on stolen goods!” He snarls, and that’s when the first hit happens.

 

Peter socks Roman in the face and they end up on the floor, Roman choking Peter until he’s red in the face and his golden eyes are starting to roll up in his head. He only stops when Ana’s crying sounds from the baby monitor, and when he sits back, Peter is gasping for air and so is he. He falls off of Peter’s legs, feeling numb and shaky. The both of them sit quietly on the floor while their daughter cries, and Roman wipes at his damp eyes as Peter gets up to tend to the baby.

 

Roman doesn’t move from his spot, and he waits for Peter to come downstairs with Ana and their bags. He just sits and stares at the floor, feeling like he had made a big mistake. He knew he treated money like it was nothing, just like Peter was hesitant to spend it on anything. Maybe they weren’t meant to fit together, maybe Peter should just leave and take Ana with him.

 

He curls his knees to his chest and hides his face, tears of frustration leaking out without his permission. Roman can hear Peter on the baby monitor, hushing the baby as she cries, and for the first time in a while he has the urge to dig something into his wrists just to make the pain stop.

 

It hadn’t just been a blood fetish, cutting himself and licking at his own wounds or smearing blood on his sexual partners. It had started out as a release of anger, only there wasn’t much evidence besides a few faint scars here and there. Although his suicide attempt had left him with big gnarly lines down his arms, anything else seemed to fade to nothing. He hadn’t been able to feel a lot, he either felt nothing or everything, and it was more than enough to overwhelm him on a regular basis. But with Peter things felt normal, he smiled easier and although he still felt intensely, it was love and compassion more than anger.

 

Maybe it was because he was upir, or perhaps he was just broken. It didn’t matter, because despite all his efforts he had still managed to hurt Peter. After all his hard work, he had hurt the one person still in his life that truly loved him. He wasn’t trying to kill him, he just got so angry when Peter argued with him. He wanted to make it stop, he wanted him to shut up, and that was all he could think to do.

 

“Roman.” Peter’s voice sounds croaky, and he digs his nails harder into his biceps as his brain reminds him that he did that. His brain is foggy, and he’s scared that Peter will leave him, but another part of him knows that he’ll deserve it. It’s like he’s drowning himself, clenching his teeth so hard his head is starting to hurt.

 

“Roman, stop!” Peter smacks him hard on the back of the head, using his other arm to pry at one of Roman’s. He looks up at Peter with watery eyes, finding Peter staring at him with narrowed eyes and a small scowl. He’s knelt next to Roman, looking like he’s not sure if he should hit Roman again or ask him if he’s okay.

 

Roman would prefer the hit.

 

“Are you leaving?” He asks quietly, his voice trembles something awful and he quickly clears his throat.

 

“Not when you’re self-destructing.” He grunts, reaching up to touch the deep red marks where Roman had been digging his fingernails into his arms. One of them was bleeding sluggishly, Roman sniffs and wipes at it.

 

“I’m fine.” He coughs, blinking away his tears. He wasn’t someone to pity, he would be just fine if Peter left.

 

“Shut the fuck up.” He shakes his head, sitting up on his knees and grabbing the bottle of whiskey they had been draining. He pours some into the remaining glass on the coffee table, Roman’s having been thrown at a nearby wall at one point.

 

He hands the glass to Roman and takes the bottle for himself, tipping it back to take a swig. Roman stares down at the drink for a moment and then does the same, downing the contents of the glass. Peter shifts to lean into Roman, sighing quietly and pushing his hair back.

 

“You could get a job,” He offers quietly, Peter hums under his breath. “We could hire a nanny.” He mumbles.

 

“You couldn’t have said that five minutes ago instead of trying to break my trachea?” He snorts wryly, setting the bottle in the crook of his lap.

 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” Roman says immediately, Peter smirks with a shake of his head and turns his head to look at Roman. “I don’t like you being angry with me, I wanted you to stop.” He tells him, and even to his own ears, it sounds insane.

 

“You know we’re the textbook definition of a toxic relationship sometimes.” He grumbles in reply, Roman nods his head and takes the bottle from him to have another sip.

 

“Yeah.” He agrees with a sigh, setting the bottle on the table. He wipes the back of his hand under his nose, surprised when Peter wraps an arm around the side of his neck and pulls him down. His head knocks clumsily against Peter’s temple and they both wince, sitting in an uncomfortable half-hug embrace.

 

“Don’t you have a meeting in the morning?” Peter asks, Roman sighs and nods his head. “All right, then let’s go to bed.” He says simply, starting to get up.

 

“You’re not mad anymore?” Roman questions cautiously. Peter turns to look at him, pushing his hair out of his face.

 

“I’m tired and drunk, that’ll make any Rumancek pissed off.” He holds out a hand, Roman takes it and gets to his feet. They head up the stairs, Peter stops at the top and turns to him. “Am I going to wake up to you staring at me again tonight?” He asks, because he’d caught Roman doing it again a few days before.

 

“No.” He lies, because he probably won’t be able to sleep without checking to make sure Peter hadn’t hit the ground running the second Roman fell asleep.

 

“I don’t believe you, go get changed.” He waves a hand at him, and Roman complies.

 

He hesitates to return, because maybe Peter was just making a comment, but he needed to make sure. He ends up back at Peter’s door in a few minutes, the young man already having the lights out and in bed. Roman stares into the dark, straining his eyes to see Peter’s still form.

 

“Don’t tell me the ‘vampires can’t enter somewhere uninvited’ myth is true.” Peter says tiredly, Roman smirks and steps into the room. “Get in the bed, set the alarm if you need it.” He explains, Roman sets his phone on the nightstand and plugs it to his charger before plugging that into the socket on the wall. He notes that there’s a glass of water on the stand, and he turns his head to see that Peter had left water out for himself as well as Roman.

 

“My phone’s set.” He says as explanation and climbs in beside Peter. The room smells vaguely of herbs and patchouli, Peter’s deodorant and musk have already tainted the bed after two weeks of staying here.

 

“All right.” Peter turns away from him, falling quiet, Roman bites his lip as he stares at the young man’s back.

 

“I’m sorry.” He says, because he rarely does, and Peter needs to know he means it.

 

“I know.” Peter says in return. “I’m not mad.”

 

“You were earlier.” He kicks his foot into the back of Peter’s calf gently.

 

“You had your hands around my throat earlier.” Peter snaps, Roman chews on the inside of his cheek in contemplation.

 

“I said I was sorry.” Peter turns over at that, sighing loudly as he adjusts.

 

“Just because you’re sorry doesn’t mean I forgive you yet. I know you’re impatient and you always get everything you want, but sometimes I’m going to get pissed at you and you’re going to have to wait for me to get over it.” He explains into the dark, Roman blinks a few times as he thinks about this.

 

“So you are mad.” He says, Peter groans loudly.

 

“Yes, I’m fucking mad!” He shouts, throwing himself on his back and running his hands over his face. “You’re so fucking thick sometimes, it’s like you don’t even know how to be human.”

 

“I’m not human.” Roman murmurs, and the statement quiets Peter.

 

“I’m not having a heartfelt conversation with you while I’m angry and drunk.” He says, then sits up and leans over Roman. “I’m not leaving, you’re not leaving, we’ll sort this out later.” He leans over and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple, he frowns as the young man follows it up with a shove to Roman’s head.

 

“What’s that for?” He asks, feeling grateful that the lights are still out, because his face feels a little hot.

 

“Because if I didn’t do that, I might have been tempted to stab you with the knife I keep in my nightstand.” He drops back down, getting comfortable once more. “Go to sleep.” He insists.

 

Roman stares up at the ceiling, focused on the feeling of Peter’s lips on him. He had been so worried about Peter leaving, he seemed so flighty, it was his nature. Yet time and time again he proves that he wants to stick around, for some reason. Peter doesn’t leave, he just falls asleep like he always does, and stays. Somehow, Roman finds peace of mind and allows himself to finally drift off, comforted by the weight resting on the bed nearby.

 

-

 

They don’t really talk about that night, although Peter seems to forgive him silently. He loses all tenseness by the next evening, and soon enough finds a job at a local tow truck company. It’s a filthy place, and Roman could have offered him a job at the tower but he doesn’t want Peter mixed up in all that bullshit despite wanting him close. He seems content with the job, so Roman decides not to kick up a fuss over it.

 

After that, Roman finds a nanny that isn’t the ancient one that took care of him when he was a baby. She’s a young woman with a master’s degree in psychology with a focus on childhood education, who knows how to be discreet and agrees to sign any contract he wants about keeping the kid as under wraps as possible. Roman was one of the richest young men in the country, he didn’t want anyone targeting his family.

 

The young woman, Madeline, does hesitate slightly when Peter comes home from visiting Destiny to help with the interview. He must look out of place in the house, next to Roman, wearing worn down clothes and having greasy hair. Peter hadn’t yet grown used to living high and mighty and it was doubtful he ever would, but right now Roman was just trying to get him to bathe and eat regularly.

 

Despite this, she recovers quickly and smiles at the both of them brightly as they agree to hire her. She’d stay in the house, although she’d only work on the weekdays from the morning until the evening when Peter got home.

 

“I’ll be here in the morning with my things.” She says with a nod as Roman leads her to the door. Peter stands nearby with the baby, the girl chewing on a teething ring and drooling a little on his jacket.

 

“Sounds great.” Roman says politely, and the woman waves at Ana.

 

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart!” She says with a grin, Peter bounces the baby gently and presses a kiss to her cheek just to make her giggle.

 

Roman shuts the door and steps over to the two, listening to the door clicking shut and lock automatically as it does so. He leans over to brush his nose against Ana’s soft head, then kiss it. He takes the baby from Peter, who turns into the living room.

 

It looked a little odd, with modern walls and pictures and furniture that was comfortable enough for Peter’s love of worn out things. But they made it work, and Roman was content enough to sink down onto the couch and turn to sit with his back against the arm and drape his feet over Peter’s thighs.

 

The baby squirms and waves her teething ring, dribbling a little spit on Roman’s shirt as she does so. Peter turns on the TV with the remote in one hand, the other resting easily on one of Roman’s ankles. They watch TV in companionable silence, Roman occasionally talking to Ana and stroking her cheek or her back affectionately. Peter lets out an amused exhale when Roman does a goofy voice at his daughter, the both of them smiling over Ana’s head as the baby shrieks with laughter.

 

It feels like home, and Roman wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

-

 

Madeline, as it turns out, is amazing with Ana. They were hesitant at first, mostly because it seemed like Ana was a picky baby that didn’t like a lot of people outside of her Tătic and Papa. But, she doesn’t scream and cry when Madeline holds her, and she only fusses a little when Peter leaves her with the woman in the morning to head out to work.

 

However, that didn’t mean Ana was going to be happy all the time. Peter comes home one evening to Ana squalling loudly while Madeline is struggling to calm her down. He drops his keys into the bowl on the table near the door and shuts the door behind him, signaling his presence to the slightly frazzled young woman.

 

“Mr. Godfrey.” She says, and Peter’s eyes widen significantly. He supposes there were going to be assumptions, considering they were two grown men raising a baby together, but he found himself a little perturbed that he was going to be assumed to have taken Roman’s name. Then again, it was the name on everything in town.

 

“It’s Rumancek,” He says as he walks over and lifts the fussing baby out of her arms. “But you can call me Peter.” He assures, the girl gives him an apologetic smile and brushes her wavy hair out of her face.

 

“She’s been fed and changed, burped, she might be tired.” She says with a small shake of her head, Peter nods as he starts to pace back and forth through the living room as Ana cries and clings to him.

 

“Draga mea, what’s with all the tears?” He bounces her, pats her back and kisses her dark hair as her crying starts to lessen. “Tata missed you, my love.” He tells her quietly, kissing her temple when she turns her head.

 

“You’re good with her.” Madeline says, sinking down onto the couch with a small smile.

 

“I grew up babysitting, big family.” He explains, hushing the baby when she hiccups and tries to start up again. She drops her head down on Peter’s chest, whimpering quietly as she sticks her fingers in her mouth.

 

“A lot of siblings?” She questions, he shakes his head.

 

“Only child, lots of cousins though.” He says with a small smile.

 

“You’re…. Um…” She tilts her head a little, narrowing her eyes with a hesitant look on her face. “Romani, right?” She asks, Peter blinks in surprise and nods his head.

 

“I am.” He smiles, she gets to her feet and turns about the room, as if finally taking the time to observe the place.

 

“So how did you and Mr. Godfrey meet?” She asks him curiously.

 

“We went to high school together, I was the prime suspect in a string of murders and Roman couldn’t keep his nose out of it.” He snorts, the woman looks mildly confused and tries for a smile but doesn’t quite succeed.

 

“That’s awful.” She says, Peter shrugs.

 

“Yeah well, blame the gypsy is a game people have been playing a long time.” He looks down at the baby, who is finally quieted down, sucking on her fingers and blinking tiredly. “Roman’s mother still doesn’t like us being around each other.”

 

“Must be hard, having homophobic family members.” She says sympathetically, Peter’s eyes widen and he looks up at the girl.

 

“Shit, me and him aren’t together.” He says with a small smile, the girl’s eyes go as round as saucers and she immediately starts to apologize.

 

“I’m so sorry, I just assumed.” He waves her off easily, smirking.

 

“It’s all right, you’re not the first.” He assures her, adjusting the baby in his arms. “Ana’s mother was my girlfriend, and Roman’s cousin.” He explains, the woman nods understandingly.

 

“I’m guessing she’s no longer with us?” She asks cautiously, he clears his throat.

 

“No, she passed away during childbirth.” He says, the words like chains tightening around his ribcage.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She says, approaching slowly and petting Ana’s back. Peter can see the love in her eyes, the dedication to this baby. “But at least you’ve got her.”

 

“Yeah.” He agrees, feeling something akin to attraction thumping in his stomach as he looks at the woman. They both stand close to one another, and for a moment it feels like they’re leaning in.

 

The door clicks open with the beep of the keypad, and Madeline immediately steps back, looking embarrassed. Roman sets his keys down in the bowl audibly and then appears around the corner, shrugging out of his jacket and approaching Peter and Ana.

 

“Hey, angel.” He leans down to kiss Ana’s head, the girl reaching out a pudgy hand to the man, he offers his finger for her to grasp onto.

 

“Papa…” She grasps at the air with her other hand in Roman’s direction, and Peter easily passes her over.

 

“She missed you.” Madeline says, Roman hums under his breath as he gives the baby a soft forehead kiss. He reaches out and squeezes Peter’s shoulder, then gives it a pat before dropping his arm.

 

“How was your day?” He asks, not even registering Madeline really.

 

“Good.” He says quietly, Roman nods his head and turns to head into the kitchen, leaving Madeline and Peter alone.

 

“I should probably head upstairs,” She says awkwardly, Peter shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

 

“You don’t have to, you could join us for dinner.” He offers, she quickly shakes her head.

 

“I already ate, and besides, I have to study.” She says.

 

“Working on another master’s?” He asks jokingly, she smiles at him.

 

“A PhD, actually.” She replies easily, and Peter raises an impressed eyebrow at her.

 

“Sounds interesting.” He offers, because he’s not sure what else to say.

 

“You ever go to college?” She questions, Peter shakes his head.

 

“Not for me, I was lucky enough to graduate high school.” He explains as Roman returns with the baby and a glass of water, sipping from it.

 

“You could have made good grades.” He counters easily, a teasing smile on his face.

 

“Says the guy that took every chance to pull me out of class.” He reaches out and flicks Roman in the ear, who tries to smack his hand away before it’s drawn back.

 

“That was a long time ago.” He says, Peter snorts.

 

“That was last year!” He counters.

 

“Wait a second, how old are you two?” Madeline interrupts, both Peter and Roman looking to her as they both remember that she’s present.

 

“Eighteen.” They answer in unison, she lets out a quiet huff of disbelief.

 

“Wow, I feel old.” She says with a shake of her head. “I’m twenty-six.” She says when they both continue to stare at her.

 

“Oh, hm.” Peter glances away, thinking about it a moment. They were pretty young, although Peter had always been an old soul according to Nicolae. Roman felt similar in those respects, like they had both seen enough to last a lifetime.

 

“You know what they say,” Roman shrugs. “Eighteen is the new thirty.” He says.

 

“Nobody says that.” Peter shakes his head as he drops down onto the couch. He turns on the TV, keeping the volume low as he flips through the channels.

 

“Tătic is a buzz-kill, isn’t he?” Roman asks Ana, who is cradled in his arms and half-way asleep already.

 

“I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Madeline says with a small smile, waving to them and heading up the stairs to her room. Roman watches her carefully, and as soon as her door shuts, his eyes focus on Peter.

 

“The fuck’s wrong with her?” He asks, Peter glances away from the TV.

 

“She thought we were a couple,” He explains, Roman glances from the stairs back to Peter.

 

“And?” He asks, Peter shrugs.

 

“I corrected her,” He says, and when Roman continues to stare at him, he sighs. “I dunno, I think she realized she might have a chance with me because I’m not sucking your dick.” He mutters.

 

“I’ll fire her tomorrow, then.” He decides, Peter looks up at him in shock and agitation.

 

“What the fuck, man?” He snaps, Roman hushes him intensely. “She’s a perfect nanny.” He insists quietly.

 

“You should have thought about that before you started feeling up the help!” Roman argues, Peter scoffs and gets to his feet.

 

“I wasn’t feeling her up!” He hisses, Roman rolls his eyes. “Are you jealous?” He asks, mouth dropping open slightly, earning a murderous glare from the taller man. “You are!” He points a finger at Roman.

 

“I’m not!” He shouts, Ana’s eyes flutter open and she hiccups, starting to squirm and fuss again.

 

“Great going.” Peter steps forward and takes the baby from him. “Keep it in your pants, man. She’s a good nanny, you can fuck whatever hooker you want, keep your dick away from her.” He insists, turning and heading to the stairs to calm Ana down and put her down for the night.


End file.
